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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583285">the mystery of florence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hot_damn_louis/pseuds/hot_damn_louis'>hot_damn_louis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Small Town, Childhood Memories, Deputy Derek Hale, Eventual Smut, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Inspired by Twin Peaks, Jordan Parrish is Sheriff, M/M, Murder Mystery, No Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, POV Derek Hale, Police, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, autopsy report, murder investigation, sorry i hate scott, sorry yall this gets a little bit gritty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:27:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>49,481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hot_damn_louis/pseuds/hot_damn_louis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sorry, hi. I’m Stiles Stilinski, FBI,” Stiles said, adjusting his tie as he leaned forward, shaking Parrish’s hand. He turned to Derek, extending his hand. “Hi,” he said quickly, shaking firmly. His eyes scanned Derek’s face, and something like recognition flashed behind his eyes. Or maybe it was attraction. “Hey,” Stiles said, considerably more familiarly.</p><p>aka the one where they solve crimes</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sterek Goodness</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey y'all! I'm back at it again with another long, chaptered fic. Because I want to torture myself and pretend like applying for grad school isn't stressful as all hell. </p><p>This is inspired heavily by Twin Peaks. I had to watch it for class, and now I can't get the idea of Stiles as Cooper out of my head. They bring the same energy. </p><p>Comments and kudos are always appreciated! I love my readers so much honestly. Y'all are rockstars, and I totally remember when your comments from fic to fic. 😊</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Derek arrived at the station that morning, it was buzzing with activity. Which was strange in itself, because it was usually quiet. The most exciting thing to happen all month was Mrs. Gonzales’ grandson getting his head stuck in the banister. This town was not necessarily known for being exciting, particularly in the early spring. It was usually very chill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Derek had moved to Oregon, he was trying to put some distance between himself and Beacon Hills once and for all. Cora had decided to move to Eugene for college, and Derek took a job as a deputy in a small town on the coast. He was looking for a quiet space with a lot of room to breathe and a change of scenery. The cabin that he had bought had a few rooms and open, vaulted ceilings, so nothing felt claustrophobic and tough like it did in Beacon Hills. He liked it quiet, and he liked it simple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did not like the fact that the entire station was buzzing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Derek asked Janice at the front desk, frowning at the sight of everyone talking and moving about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They found a body on the shore of the lake,” Janice said, looking far more glum than the others. “Sheriff called it in, and they’re bringing in an FBI agent,” Janice said, glancing back at where the Sheriff and the other three deputies were standing around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Derek! Let’s give you the low down,” Sheriff Parrish said, waving him over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was one of the reasons Derek finally ended up becoming a police officer. Parrish had convinced him after he had left Beacon Hills, taking the Sheriff’s position here. After a few years, Derek finally realized that taking the job opening in the small town was going to be considerably better than picking up odd jobs for the rest of his life. He had to do something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parrish told Derek and the other deputies about the body near the water that he had been called out to investigate this morning. It was the death of Britney, a junior at the high school. She had three gashes that looked like claw marks down her back, and had been strangled. She had been tossed in the lake sometime during the night, and washed up this morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Parrish said claw marks, he looked significantly at Derek. In Florence, there weren't many people like Derek or Parrish around. The only other werewolf was Dora, who lived out behind the casino. She kept to herself and was a beta of some Alpha who lived up the coast. She was old and knew her place, and had made sure to introduce herself to Derek when he arrived. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Here, in Florence, Derek and Parrish were sort of a two-man pack. They had gotten closer since Derek had moved, and it was probably the closest friend that Derek had. Cora was included in their ragtag pack, but since she was in school, they didn’t involve her in the politics of supernatural creatures. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any evidence?” Derek asked, taking notes down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most of it washed away. I took pictures and made sure to grab anything that was important. She’s being sent to autopsy, but when I called it into the state, they decided to send an FBI agent. We’re supposed to wait until he gets here,” Parrish said, shrugging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s next?” Kara asked, adjusting her uniform. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, Steve, and Brian continue routes as normal. I’m keeping Derek to help me investigate this,” Parrish said, When there were noises of protest from the three, Parrish simply held up his hand. “Y’all are too close to this case, and you know Brittney too well. We can’t have you muddling it up because you all know her parents. Go out, do your normal routes. Derek and I will go break the news.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three simply nodded, heading off more quietly than before. Janice, at the front, sent a look back to Parrish and Derek, nodding as if appreciating their respect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Break the news?” Derek asked, trying not to shudder at the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone has to do it, and I want you by my side in this. We’re going to stop by the lake, see if you can’t sniff anything out,” Parrish said, pressing his lips together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you think it could be done by someone like us?” Derek asked quietly, trying to keep his voice low and quiet from curious ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parrish pressed his lips together, which was his own personal tick when he was trying not to give too much information away. “I think it could. The scratches looked like something from one of us, but I can’t be sure. Could have been a bear attack for all I know, although a bear wouldn’t strangle her,” Parrish said, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can say that again,” Parrish said, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, there was nothing harder than driving over to Brittney Callahan’s house to tell her mom that she was dead. In Derek’s three years as a deputy, he had not yet had to hold a crying woman while she sobbed over her daughter’s death, and this was an experience he had no desire to replicate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still feel up to checking out the scene?” Parrish asked as they climbed into his cruiser. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s do it now before I change my mind,” Derek said, taking a few deep breaths and trying to let the pure misery release from his nose. The smell brought up memories of his own tragedy, of when Sheriff Stilinski held him as he sobbed at the news of his family burning alive. He remembered the Sheriff’s son, Stiles, waiting in the Sheriff’s office, never too far after his mom had died. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek sort of wondered what happened to that kid. He wasn’t a kid anymore, had to be in his mid twenties by now. He must have flown under the radar, otherwise rumors would have spread. Not that Derek had spent much time hanging around Beacon Hills after he had graduated high school. Returning to try and salvage his life after Laura died was just enough to meet Parrish and figure out that life had more to it than being miserable and waiting for happiness to find him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long until the FBI agent gets here?” Derek asked, hands reaching up to grip his vest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Soon. He’s driving down from the Portland field office, so he should get here sometime in the early afternoon,” Parrish said, his eyes watching the road. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the agent’s name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles Stilinksi,” Parrish said, taking a right towards the lake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any relation to Sheriff Stilinski? From Beacon Hills?” Derek asked, blinking in surprise. The fact that he was just thinking about the Sheriff, about Stiles, was ridiculous. He hated coincidences like that, if he could even call them that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. I haven’t had a chance to call John yet. I’m sure he’d be happy that we all somehow found our way back to each other, here,” Parrish said, shaking his head. “Small world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Telling Brittney’s mom reminded me of Stilinski. Because of the fire,” Derek said. He didn’t say anymore, knowing that Parrish already knew. They had talked about the fire before, going over every detail in the hopes that they would never encounter an Argent again. He even told him about Kate, which meant that he viewed Parrish as close to him. He rarely talked about Kate with anyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you know him well?” Parrish asked, pulling into the parking lot for the lake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Met him only once, in passing, when we were both kids,” Derek said, shrugging. There was nothing more than that, but it was hard to forget that moment. It was one of the first positive things after the fire, with Stiles sitting at his dad’s desk waiting, drawing something. When Derek had gone back to make another statement a few days later, there was a picture hanging on the Sheriff’s wall, something that Stiles must have done. It was clearly Stiles and his dad, holding hands with a woman in a hospital gown. That alone gave Derek enough information about him to understand him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek refocused his thoughts on Brittney as they approached the crime scene. It was still taped off, with an officer standing point, waiting for them to return. They both nodded at him, one of the nightshift guys, as they ducked around the tape. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing peculiar about the scene. No scents, no chem signals, nothing. Not even the barest trace that someone had dumped her at this particular sight. The only traces were of the investigators. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She wasn’t dumped here,” Derek said, shaking his head. “Must have been at a different spot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is the only public entrance to the lake,” Parrish said, frowning. He looked down at the spot where Brittney was found, his eyes looking much sadder than they did moments ago. “Who the hell killed her?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek shook his head, clapping Parrish on the shoulder. “Let’s head to the hospital and find out,” Derek said, knowing that was the only option left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The basement of the hospital, where the coroner and the autopsy room was located, was the creepiest part of the entire hospital. It had low ceilings and a claustrophobic feeling that Derek couldn’t shake. There was something about it that made his proverbial hackles raise, and he tried not to look too tense as they stood there, waiting for the FBI agent to arrive. Janice had called from the station and said he was on his way, so they likely didn’t have to wait long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright sticking with me during the investigation? You’ve got extra talents, and don’t know the town as well. Keeps you unbiased,” Parrish said, hooking his thumbs into his gun belt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Derek agreed quickly, nodding. His ears perked up at the sound of someone opening the door at the other end of the hallway, which signaled their FBI agent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man approaching them had dark hair, slicked down with gel, and hands that wouldn’t stop fidgeting with his tie or the ends of his suit jacket. He nodded to any staff as he passed, keeping his lips pressed together tight as he approached them. He looked official.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. To the eyes alight with excitement to the fidgeting hands, Derek found something about him to be entirely alluring. It was like a spark of knowing that something deep within Derek could feel that they would be a good match. It had his wolf straining under his skin, wanting to lick up his pale neck and kiss tenderly over his moles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, hi. I’m Stiles Stilinski, FBI,” Stiles said, adjusting his tie as he leaned forward, shaking Parrish’s hand. He turned to Derek, extending his hand. “Hi,” he said quickly, shaking firmly. His eyes scanned Derek’s face, and something like recognition flashed behind his eyes. Or maybe it was attraction. “Hey,” Stiles said, considerably more familiarly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re glad you could make it on such short notice,” Parrish said, nodding at Stiles. “We have our coroner in there now, but he’s only made perfunctory notes about the body.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, I’m just gonna go take a look, and then we can go over all the notes so far,” Stiles said, nodding at the two men. He disappeared into the autopsy room quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek couldn’t help but stare at where he had entered the room, where the door had closed shut and blocked him from sight. He didn’t particularly remember John Stilinski to have such an attractive son, and yet here he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you don’t know each other?” Parrish asked, elbowing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think we’ve met, outside of when I was 16,” Derek said, shrugging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t distract him from the investigation,” Parrish said pointedly, as if that was something that Derek needed to be reminded of. As if it were even a possibility in the first place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not an issue,” Derek said, trying to shake thoughts of the agent out of his mind. If he tried to use ‘agent’ instead of Stiles, he might keep enough separation to avoid the attraction in his gut. Not that it would be an issue, or that he would be falling into bed with him at any moment, but he wanted to make sure that he maintained a level of professionalism. It was his job to investigate, not to find potential hookups. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wonder why he wanted a first glance at the body,” Parrish muttered, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glancing at the door Stiles had disappeared into. “Janice said he was adamant on the phone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something to do with the chain of evidence, maybe? Or investigatory techniques? I know nothing about autopsy work,” Derek said, only spitballing at the reasoning. They could truly only guess until he returned, which is what made it entirely more frustrating. Unless Stiles was also a coroner, then he doubted the investigation would be long at this point. He would have thrown out more theories if it wasn’t just a waste of time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They waited patiently for five minutes before Stiles ducked out of the door and back into the hallway, holding up a small evidence bag. Whatever was inside was small enough that Derek and Parrish both had to lean in closer to look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?” Parrish asked, breaking the silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve got murders across the state with similar techniques. Animal like slashes and strangulation. They all seem to have one of these shoved in their right ear,” Stiles said, pointing out the Scrabble tile. “We’ve gotten, in order: P, A, H, K, and L. This is another A. We think they’re going to spell something eventually, but no one at the Bureau wants to wait around for how many bodies that takes,” Stiles continued, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five other bodies?” Parrish asked, his brow furrowing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles nodded. “All unsolved and within the past three years. The first one was my first case with the Bureau, so I have a claim to it now,” Stiles said, looking down at the small wooden tile in his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re done with everything here, we can head back to the station to start to compile evidence,” Parrish suggested. “In a small town like this, things can spread like wildfire, and I’d like to keep it as contained as possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine with me. I’ll meet you two there,” Stiles said, pointing at the two of them. He ducked back into the autopsy room, clearly to talk to the coroner and properly tag the evidence bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek and Parrish made their way back out to the cruiser, keeping silent between them. The thought that their town, that their citizens, could be a part of a serial murderer, was unheard of. It made Derek sick to his stomach, to think that there were families facing the same tragedy as Brittney’s, and that they were having the same dread feeling that Derek had when his family died. He knew Kate was dead, but these people didn’t know who killed their family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Not everyone is what they seem, Deputy Hale,” Stiles said, picking up the file. He looked up and winked at Derek, subtly enough that Derek almost worried he imagined it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey y'all! Firstly, thank you so much for the comments and enthusiasm so far. It honestly made me feel so motivated to write, so I have another chapter coming your way sooner than anticipated. </p>
<p>I haven't blocked out chapters yet, but I have the storyline down. I'm thinking somewhere near 8 chapters, based on where I am. We'll see how that goes. </p>
<p>I think the only true overlap with Twin Peaks is general characterization and plot line, so get ready for Stiles to be Cooper-esque as the chapters continue on. When I recently watched the show, I felt like Cooper was what Stiles would be like as an FBI agent, so I'm living out my own fantasy. </p>
<p>As always, I love and appreciate all of you. Feel free to leave comments and kudos. Y'all inspire me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Janice brought doughnuts in for us,” Parrish said, gesturing towards the box on the conference room table. “She figured we’d need some fuel for all of the evidence we have to pour over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite what Parrish said, there wasn’t necessarily a lot. He talked briefly about the scratches and the strangulation marks, but outside of that, there wasn’t necessarily any particular evidence that had a lead. There was the fact that she was naked, but that was something neither Parrish or Derek wanted to bring up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Naked meant there was a high chance of her having sexual relations with whoever killed her. They didn’t want to say the R word until the coroner had come back with the results of that particular test. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the letter we found,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “So we don’t have a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The next steps are to call in some of her friends, see if there is anything they know. She had a boyfriend, but they broke up recently,” Parrish said, pushing over the compiled list of names. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s bring the ex boyfriend in, and then her friends starting with the closest one,” Stiles said, his eyes rapidly scanning the papers. He didn’t even move when Parrish walked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. It was hard to ignore the background tension that fizzled between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your take on this?” Stiles asked, his eyes not looking up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t have one yet,” Derek said honestly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles hummed quietly, shaking his head. “Teenager is a first. The usual victims are at least 21, so there has to be something about this girl. An easy grab? In over her head with illegal activities? A fake ID?” Stiles mused, looking up at Derek. His eyes narrowed, as if trying to read his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek didn’t think there was anything to read. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was a straight A student, liked by her teachers, dating a football player,” Derek said, pushing her school file over towards Stiles. “Doesn’t add up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not everyone is what they seem, Deputy Hale,” Stiles said, picking up the file. He looked up and winked at Derek, subtly enough that Derek almost worried he imagined it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried not to let the wink push him off his game. It had been so long since he had even thought about anything romantic, or even recognized that someone might be flirting with him, that his heart skipped a beat at the thought. He was not necessarily prepared for the idea of an FBI agent swirling in from his past and wrapping him up in a tornado of lost feelings and new beginnings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek might be a tad bit melodramatic. He could get away with it, as long as he didn’t speak the thoughts out loud. The only person who ever really called him on it was Cora, and she was at least two hours away. He was safe. For now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sent an officer to pick up Rocky and Alexis from school. Her other few friends will come after school,” Parrish said as he walked back into the conference room, his phone in his hands. “Janice is compiling a witness list for us, so we can have a comprehensive list of who to interview.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles nodded, leaning back in his chair. He twirled a pen with deft fingers, completely oblivious of how distracting it was. “We’ll need to visit the parents, get a good timeline of when they saw her last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can head down there this afternoon. When we told them, we promised we’d come back later for questioning, try to give them a little space,” Parrish said, nodding to Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine with me,” Stiles said, starting to stack some of the papers together. “Have you sent a search team down there, to search her bedroom?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We put caution tape up, but it was highly emotional, and it would have been inappropriate to bother them,” Derek said, his mouth tight. The last thing that the parents needed was police swarming their house and stomping around in their daughters' things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The parents are staying with a friend, and the house is locked up. We would know if there was tampering,” Parrish reassured. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This still had Stiles make a face. “We need to search that house before the end of the day. I do not want trails going cold because we missed a step,” Stiles said, slapping the papers down on the table. He stood, straightening his tie. “I’m going to ruminate. Call me in when the boyfriend gets here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Stiles was out of the room, striding down the hallway as if he owned the place. Parrish was polite enough to wait until he was out of earshot before sitting next to Derek, making a face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think of him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He seems fine. Passionate,” Derek answered, shrugging. “He seems like the kind of guy we need to solve this case and put a little bit of tranquility back,” Derek continued, reaching for the doughnut box. He ignored the side glances that Parrish was giving him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parrish might have been a Hellhoud, and the extent of his abilities was sort of beyond his knowledge, but he knew that Parrish had a keen sense of when he was lying and telling the truth. It wasn’t the same as when wolves could hear it, through a heart beat. It was more of a gut reaction, a gut feeling. Based on the way that Parrish was looking at him, he was picking up on something that Derek wasn’t even sure of yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like him,” Parrish said simply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I can’t lie to you,” Derek said, trying to avoid the question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just answer it, Hale.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek set his doughnut down on a napkin, clearly not able to get to it anytime soon. “I don’t know him yet. You’re aware of my dating track record, so I’m not exactly letting myself leap into this head first. I feel like I know him, and like he knows me, and that’s about all I can say. He seems like a good guy,” Derek said, picking at the edge of the napkin. He was trying not to let Parrish’s face goad him into saying more than that. He was good at getting Derek to spill his guts. Probably why he was the Sheriff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You feel like he knows you?” Parrish asked, clearly not letting it go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know when someone is lying? Or that you’re interested in someone beyond their looks?” Derek asked. He shook his head, not necessarily finding the right analogy. “How do you know when something is going to happen before it does? It’s a gut thing,” Derek attempted to explain. It didn’t necessarily do any justice for the strange amalgamation of feelings in his stomach, but he was trying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Try not to fuck up the murder investigation, alright? We need him focused on the first 48 hours. That’s critical response time,” Parrish said, elbowing Derek’s side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I’m going to ask him out while trying to solve a murder? Not necessarily the vibes I want to give him,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. He bit into the doughnut quickly, wanting to dissuade Parrish from asking anymore questions. He was not the one under investigation, and he certainly did not want to be interrogated over something nonessential. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that you have good luck anyways,” Parrish muttered, knowing that Derek could hear him anyways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you boys are done with your name calling, I believe the boyfriend is here,” Stiles said from the doorway, a doughnut in his hand. “He’s waiting in the front, waiting for us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek glanced at Parrish, half wondering how Stiles snuck up on them, and half wondering how much of their conversation was heard. He did not want to get off on the wrong foot, considering they had met only an hour ago. That was quick to strike out, even for Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get him,” Parrish said, grabbing the doughnut box. He walked out of the room, calling to Janice and the other deputy about setting up a search at Brittney’s house later in the afternoon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you two been friends long?” Stiles asked, sitting down at the table, preparing his notebook for the questioning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve known each other since a little after highschool,” Derek said. He wasn’t quite sure how to reveal the fact that all three of them had grown up in the same town. If Stiles didn’t know by now, Derek certainly did not want to be the one that remembered and brought it up. He didn’t want to come off as creepy, if at all possible. He’d gone through that already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what brings you two up here?” Stiles asked, glancing up at Derek, his lips pressed together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek shrugged. “Parrish had an opportunity to become Sheriff and wanted me to come along. I went to the police academy in Sacramento and moved up here when I graduated,” Derek said honestly, hoping that it wasn’t revealing too much information. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“California, huh? I’m from there,” Stiles said. He looked as if he was poised to say more, but they were interrupted by Parrish escorting the boyfriend in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tanner Michelson. Notorious bad boy and overall truant. He only got away with it because he was a football player, and his dad was a hotshot property owner. He owned a hotel, two restaurants, and a few rental homes in the Florence area. He paid off anyone and everyone, as long as his son could do whatever he wanted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek didn’t even think the kid was that bad. He did stuff that Derek did in high school, except he really couldn’t hide it here. He would drag race out on the highway at night, litter beer cans at the lake, and blast music in his car late at night. He had a few noise complaints and had been taken in once on a suspected DUI, but his dad had bailed him out and paid everyone off before anything could stick. With all of his dad’s money, they were able to buy two new squad cars. Derek wasn’t complaining. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’ve got a bit of a reputation,” Stiles said, sliding his file over to glance at. “A DUI charge that didn’t stick, noise complaints, and general rowdiness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” Tanner said politely, flashing his bright smile at Stiles, as if it was going to affect him in any way. He was a charming kid, which was why everyone liked him. The fact that he was with Brittney, a girl smart and as talented as she was, was a total surprise to anyone in town. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You play football as well,” Stiles said, closing the folder quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parrish watched from the doorway, trying to get a glimpse of any tick or movement that would be unnoticeable from the table. His eyes were watching carefully, his nostrils flaring as if attempting to sniff out his evil. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that they could tell Stiles, but Derek was listening for lies. He could tell when the story was true or not, and he was ready to defend his evidence at all possible. It would be hard, trying to convince an FBI agent he knew someone was lying based off of their attitude, but Derek could do it. He could at least try. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir, I do. Not that well, but I like it,” Tanner said, shrugging. Truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where were you last night?” Stiles asked, folding his hands together politely on the table in front of him, his eyes looking at him pointedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Went driving with Owen and Brady. Picked up some Dairy Queen and then drove up to Thor’s well. We hung out for a while, but it was already dark so we drove back down the 101. I dropped them off and then headed back to my house. My dad saw me come into his office and fall asleep on the couch at around 11pm,” Tanner said, trying to be as factual as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was good at being factual, from the times they had to talk to him. It made things considerably easier to deal with. The first time Derek pulled him over, it almost startled him how quickly he spit facts out to speed up the process. He wasn’t scared, like the other teenagers. He knew exactly what he was talking about and what he was doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, dammit. He was telling the truth. Completely. Not even a half-lie detected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parrish sighed behind him, knowing that he had to be clear from killing Britney. Unless he had gone out after that. There was something about him that read that he didn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you go out after that?” Stiles asked, taking a few notes down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I woke up halfway through the night and went up to my room. I had practice at 7am this morning, so I stayed asleep,” Tanner said, holding his hands out in front of him. Truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles hummed, reaching to grab their current ongoing investigation file. “No detours? Extra stops? Visits to anyone else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I didn’t leave the house,” Tanner said, leaning back in his chair. “What did y’all call me in for, anyways? I don’t think that driving around with my friends warrants an FBI agent,” Tanner said, attempting to make light of the situation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So they hadn’t told the school yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your ex-girlfriend, Brittney Callahan, was murdered sometime last night. We found her body on the shore of the lake this morning,” Stiles said, looking into Tanner’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shift in his body and posture was immediate. He leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowing together. His shoulders slumped forward, body leaning on the table. “She was what?” Tanner asked quietly, his voice barely coming out. He took in a ragged breath, looking down at the table. Derek could smell the sorrow and grief coming off of him, thick in the small room. Even Parrish was affected by it, if the shifting of his feet gave anything away. Tanner started to sob quietly, his head dropping in his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you alone for a moment,” Stiles said quietly, standing from the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek took that as his signal to also stand, following Stiles and Parrish out of the room. They stood just outside of the door, far enough away that Tanner couldn’t possibly hear them. There was a sad tension between them, knowing that this boy had lost a girlfriend. Even if he wasn’t the greatest kid, there was clearly some part of him that still deeply loved her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s innocent,” Parrish said quickly, his eyes glancing back at the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to rule him out entirely, since he doesn’t have an entirely concrete alibi for after 11pm, but I doubt he did it. He doesn’t seem the type,” Stiles said, marking a note in his small notepad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles, I guarantee when I say this, he was not lying,” Derek said, shaking his head. “That kid is floored by the news of Brittney, and I highly doubt he was involved at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles looked at him for a long, hard moment. His eye contact felt more intense than it was, and yet Derek still felt the urge to fidget underneath the intense gaze. The clear brown of Stiles’ eyes was emphasized by the warm light overhead, and the stark black suit made him seem even more pale. He was the sort of intense that Derek could see himself liking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I trust your word,” Stiles said, as if that staring contest was somehow a test of his trustworthiness. He nodded, gesturing towards the room. “Call the kid’s parents, they can pick him up for the station. We can bring him in for more questioning tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On it,” Derek said, nodding. “Excuse me,” he said politely, pushing past Stiles and Parrish. If anything, he was secretly sort of glad to get away from him. It was hard to spend time in the same room as Stiles and not have words spill from his mouth. Derek was usually such a quiet guy, he forgot what it felt like to have his guts spilled out in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek was sort of looking forward to a break, to sitting outside and pretending like the weight of the day wasn’t getting to him. It was hard enough to be a lead investigator on a murder investigation of a teenage girl, but to have a blast from the past be a distraction was a whole other thing. He liked Stiles, he did, and his first impression of him was that he was a hard worker and a good detective. He wasn’t sure if his involvement in the case long term would prove good for Derek mentally. He couldn’t picture himself tripping and falling headfirst for Stiles and have it work out well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was already getting ahead of himself, thinking like that. With Kate, with Jennifer, with Paige, with any of his girlfriends, he never thought about a relationship with them first thing. Sure, he thought they were attractive, but he never took one look and had a gut feeling that they would be something more than just a relationship. Why he felt that connection with Stiles, that strange gut feeling, he wasn’t quite sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re interviewing the best friend,” Parrish said, his head poking out the back door of the station. “Stiles wants you in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek sort of wish he smoked so that he could have another few seconds to finish a cigarette, or stub it out, or something. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you can’t handle it, we can figure something else out—” Parrish started. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can handle it. It’s just harder than anticipated,” Derek said truthfully. When he closed his eyes, he could see Brittney’s body. When he tried not to listen, he could hear Stiles’ voice. His mind was not handling everything perfectly, but he had to help. He had to do it for her, and for the other victims. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but think of the fire, think of Sheriff Stillinski and the way he held Derek as he sobbed on his shoulder. Or the days after, when everyone at school stared at him, knowing that his entire family burned. Or the fact that Laura had to quit her college plans, only to have her life ripped away from her four years later. None of those thoughts were particularly productive in this case, but they were lingering in the back of Derek’s mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you need to step out—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jordan, I’m fine. Brings back memories that are not helpful. I’ll figure it out,” Derek said, pushing past him and back towards the conference room. He tried to ignore the way he felt in favor of focusing on the case. He could do something right, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the conference room was Stiles, sitting there with his notebook and his mouth working over the end of a pen. It was distracting in the worst way, and with all the thoughts pulsing through Derek’s brain, it wasn’t necessarily something he was interested in seeing right now. He couldn’t even file away the image for later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re bringing in Natalie Truman next,” Stiles said, not looking up from his notebook. He wrote a few more things down, crossing his pen through others. He seemed to be narrowing things down, or at least trying to sort through the information that was in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> It was already late afternoon, the sun sliding behind clouds in the sky. It was a reminder of the late fall weather in Florence, and of the perpetually cloudy skies once winter officially set in. It always left the town sort of stir crazy on a normal year, and that would inevitably be multiplied by the murder. It wasn’t as if they had a murder every day, or at all in either Derek or Parrish’s careers. He wondered if Janice could even remember a murder. </span>
</p>
<p> <span>“How’d you know that he was lying?” Stiles asked, his eyes narrowing on Derek’s face. He seemed to stare through him, as if his eyes were burrowing through him, dissecting him apart and picking out the pieces that were necessary. Derek tried not to flinch under the attention, but he couldn’t help but feel his heart beat faster at the feeling of scrutiny. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“I could tell,” Derek said vaguely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now you’re lying. Or at least not telling the truth,” Stiles said, taking the pen out of his mouth and pointing it at Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You might be right,” Derek said quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you going to ask me how I know that?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow at Derek. He smirked, as if the verbal quips were something entertaining, not just a part of work. It felt wrong, acting like this during a murder investigation. Even so, Derek wanted to play into this game. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here’s Natalie,” Parrish announced, walking her in and sitting her down at the chair across from Stiles and next to Derek. There was nothing seemingly wrong upon the girl, but there was a firm reason why he sat her next to Derek. Parrish wanted him to get a read off her, a feeling, a scent, anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek didn’t listen much to the perfunctory questions. He knew enough, or could be filled in. That wasn’t the thing that Parrish wanted him to focus on. Instead, he focused on her heart and scent, trying to pick up anything that could give him clues. If Parrish had sat her down next to Derek for a reason, then there was something he already felt like he was picking up. It was up to Derek’s own perceptions and instincts that would make a judgement about her in the long run. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She seemed normal, almost like a regular teen. It wasn’t until Stiles asked her about what she did the night before that her scent turned from worry to embarrassment, as if she was suddenly thinking about something else. “I was at home,” she said, but she was lying. Derek could almost see her sweat with how nervous she was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All night?” Stiles asked. After he asked the question, his eyes flicked to Derek, as if waiting for his own assessment of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All night,” Natalie said, a little more firmly than her first statement. She was still lying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek looked at Stiles, pressing his lips together. He shook his head, barely enough for movement to be detected. He could see the moment when Stiles had realized what he was doing. Stiles straightened, taking in the information and formulating a new response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you didn’t go out last night? With Brittney?” Stiles asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t see Brittney last night,” Natalie said, her brow turning down in confusion. She was telling the truth. So she had snuck out, but not with Brittney. Interesting turn of events. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek tilted his chin down, as if nodding, hoping that Stiles was catching onto what he was trying to throw down. He could only hope that Stiles would trust him enough, even while not knowing about werewolves or any supernatural. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what did you do?” Stiles asked, his eyes burrowing straight into hers. Natalie fidgeted under the pressure, complying quickly under the intensity of gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I went to see Tanner,” Natalie said quickly, her eyes looking down. “I’ve had a crush on him since forever, and now that he and Brittney broke up, we can finally be together. I tried to climb in his window, but it was locked. I ended up slipping him a note and going home,” Natalie said quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was not necessarily the best alibi, with all things considered. There was something about this particular statement that felt particularly true to Derek, considering her heart was steady and her emotions weren’t exactly he had expected. She smelled like hope and love first, with guilt lying underneath. If she had killed Brittney and felt guilty, he would smell it. If she killed her and felt happy about it, she wouldn’t be guilty at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s take you back to the front and have you write up a statement for us,” Parrish said, standing. He escorted her back out of the room, leading her with one hand on her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was quiet between Derek and Stiles, the two of them sitting across from each other, absorbing what just happened. Stiles was scribbling furiously in his notebook, as if he wasn’t also audio recording each of the interviews. He had things that Derek couldn’t read, his hand writing poor and almost indecipherable. It must have made sense to him, but even then Derek couldn’t concentrate on his notes to save his life. It was as if his eyes couldn’t focus on the shapes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can tell when people are lying when they’re talking to you,” Stiles said, not letting his head up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Derek admitted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love eating dirt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My middle name is Andrew.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles pressed his lips together as he thought. “My car is the most important thing in my life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This one was harder. It wasn’t as clear cut sounding in his chest, his heart not beating the signature lie, but beating slightly harder for a moment. “Half lie. It’s either the second most important thing, or you're using semantics to trick me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles laughed, a bold and hearty laugh that was almost infectious with the way that he tilted his head back. His throat was exposed, long and dotted with moles that Derek wanted to lick. He wanted to force Stiles’ head to the side, nip at his pale neck and bruise it. Mark him. Make it known that he was taken. Fuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any reason why you’re testing me?” Derek asked, trying not to let his own sexual frustration bleed through. He clenched his fists under the table, trying not to do something rash or stupid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trying to figure out how much I can trust you. Answer is a lot,” Stiles said, snapping his notebook shut. “Now, can you drive me over to Brittney’s house? We have a bedroom to investigate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek was assigned door duty while Parrish and Stiles searched through her bedroom. They had more search experience than Derek, and they were quick and efficient about it. They found her diary, a few notes, and her computer. They packed it all in evidence bags, grabbing anything else that was even sort of important looking. None of it was particularly conclusive to anything, which was somehow more frustrating than anything. Here they were, trying to figure out what was going on, and having absolutely no way to truly understand anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was one thing that Derek had not missed out on by being a deputy in a small town. He never wanted to do investigations, and even now he still didn’t want to. Putting the puzzle together was not something he was particularly interested in. Puzzles frustrated him, especially when solving it had implications and pressures. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you come in here?” Parrish asked lowly, his voice barely audible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek walked into the room, his eyes scanning over the teenage contents. He averted his gaze from the bras hanging on the closet door knob and the box of tampons strewn across her vanity. These were things that Cora did, be messy, and Derek only averted his gaze because his mother said it was the polite thing to do. He was to try to stay out of people’s personal business, even when their business was everywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re just tampons,” Stiles said, catching the way that Derek was avoiding looking in the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My mom always told me to be respectful of others rooms and property,” Derek said, keeping his gaze on the girls bed, where it was free of mess and clutter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good mom,” Stiles muttered, crouching down to dig through the drawers of the vanity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you give one last sweep? It’s sometimes helpful to get a last glance for evidence reasons,” Parrish said, holding up the few evidence bags he had already collected. He nodded to the room, inviting Derek to look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he started looking, he noticed a distinct smell of perfume, as if it was coming from under the bed. “Did you check under here?” Derek asked, gesturing to the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just some clothes,” Stiles said, his eyes focusing on Derek. “Is there something we’re missing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek pulled gloves out of his pocket, slipping them on. He dropped to his knees and elbows, sliding one arm underneath the bed. He pulled out the clothes, the shirts and pants a tangled pile. He sat back on his heels, sorting through the clothes. Most of them were hers, based off of the scent, but there was a different scent on one of the items. He untangled underwear and shirts, finally landing on a simple black shirt. It didn’t particularly look like it matched with her clothing, and it smelled like it didn’t belong in her room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This shirt isn’t hers,” Derek said, holding the shirt up towards Parrish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without asking, Parrish bagged the shirt, zipping it into a bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know that?” Stiles asked, his eyes narrowing. He looked between Parrish and Derek, clearly starting to put puzzle pieces together quickly. He looked at Derek critically, as if attempting to take him apart and put him back together again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just do,” Derek said firmly, confidently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could see the gears turning in Stiles’ mind, his hands twitching, as if he was itching to do something else besides stand there and dig through a dead teenage girl’s room. When he looked like this, it was as if Stiles could see right through him, see the wolf that was always scratching just beneath the surface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweep the rest so we can get this back to the station,” Stiles said, gesturing towards the room. “I’m going to go ask the parents a few questions while we’re here.” He snapped his gloves off, balling them up as he strode out of the room, his body confident. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gotta stop doing that,” Parrish said once he was out of earshot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m trying to help the investigation,” Derek said, sniffing hard to try and pick anything else out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parrish’s bare hand grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “The other deputies ignore it because they like you, and I’m pretty sure they all think they can flirt their way into your pants. This is an </span>
  <em>
    <span>FBI agent</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Der. He’s not going to let that sort of thing slide,” Parrish said, shaking his head. “How is that supposed to hold up in court?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be more careful,” Derek said, turning away. He hadn’t thought of it that way, in a legal matter. All he was focused on was trying to help and stay out of the way as much as possible. He wasn’t necessarily thinking about what would and wouldn’t be admissible in court. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t find anything else in her room, so he snapped his own gloves off, helping Parrish carry the evidence bags downstairs. He could hear the faint murmurings of a conversation between Stiles and the parents, his voice soothing and smooth talking. When he heard them at the bottom of the stairs, he stood and said his goodbyes, shaking each of their hands politely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles joined them as they walked out of the house, keeping his voice low. “She came home from a study group at 8pm last night. That means we have a timeline, boys,” Stiles said, clapping his hands together. He rubbed his hands together as they walked, his eyes alight with some sort of joy for the case. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Derek was awakened by a sharp rapping on his front door. He glanced at his phone quickly to check the time, his heart starting to race when he saw that it was barely 6am. With yesterday’s investigation, and the looming threat on the town, Derek couldn’t help but feel immediately keyed up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone!</p>
<p>Thanks so far for the support and kudos! I really appreciate all of the love and support, and I am working hard to keep up the quality content. </p>
<p>From here on out things get kind of real with the investigation. I've included a TW in the end notes, just in case. It will be no more graphic than a TV crime show (think NCIS, CSI, or even Criminal Minds at the most severe parts). I'm going to keep it pretty lowkey for graphic description, but I want everyone to know in advance. I've updated the tags and rating as well. </p>
<p>Thanks for everything. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Derek was awakened by a sharp rapping on his front door. He glanced at his phone quickly to check the time, his heart starting to race when he saw that it was barely 6am. With yesterday’s investigation, and the looming threat on the town, Derek couldn’t help but feel immediately keyed up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood, slipping on a pair of joggers, trying to stay as silent as possible. He walked down the hallway, bare chested, his footsteps barely making a sound. He listened at the stairwell, trying to determine if whoever was knocking had slipped into the house. He only heard another persistent round of knocks, loud in the quiet of his house. He tiptoed down the stairs, glancing at the door, wishing he could see through it to the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabbed his holster where it was hung on his coat hook, grabbing his gun. He knew he could probably use his claws, but that was so much harder to explain. And, with the ongoing murder investigation involving claw marks, he was not ready for connections to be made. He wasn’t even sure if the claw marks were from a werewolf, but he had his suspicions. He couldn’t not be suspicious about a girl turning up with claw marks on her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He approached the door, switching the safety off on his gun. He opened it quickly, ready for anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Stiles greeted, too cheerful for the morning. He glanced down at where Derek was holding his gun, eyes widening. “Who are you planning on shooting?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t be too sure when someone wakes me up with knocks,” Derek said, quickly putting the safety on, walking back into his house to slip it into the holster. He turned back to Stiles, noticing now that he stayed on the doorstep. “You’re welcome in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ eyes flicked from his face to his bare chest and back. Derek could hear his heart uptick at the sight of his bare chest, and he tried not to feel pleased at the sound. He suspected that Stiles was interested in him, but feeling his interested eyes was another thing entirely. He liked the way that Stiles’ eyes raked over his body, and the way his scent changed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted you to take me down to the lake, to see the crime scene,” Stiles said, stepping into Derek’s house. He kept his hands tight by his sides, glancing around him. “Sorry for waking you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lemme get dressed,” Derek said. He stepped around Stiles to push the door shut. He tried hard not to be too pleased at the smallest bit of attraction in Stiles’ scent, but he couldn’t help himself. He liked that there was something between them. It made Derek feel hot all over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I owe you one,” Stiles called after him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek quickly got dressed in his uniform. He didn’t have time to shave, so he left his day old scruff on his face. He doubted he would have much time to shave over the next few days anyways, so he might as well get working on his winter beard now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he walked back down the stairs, Stiles was standing in front of his sealed up fireplace, looking at the photos on the mantle. He turned when he heard Derek, gesturing towards the pictures. “Family?” he asked simply, walking back towards Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The photos were ones that Peter had in his own photo album on his own property, the small cabin a half mile away from the main Hale house. It wasn’t much, mostly photos of Peter and Annabeth and their child, but Derek had framed the few family photos that were left. He liked the memories sometimes, even when he was feeling guilty about the fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Derek said, slipping his holster on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They live around here?” Stiles asked, politely attempting to make conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re all dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Stiles said, turning his head away, as if looking at Derek was somehow suddenly impolite. “I’m sorry for your loss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was my fault, so apologies aren’t necessary,” Derek said bluntly. He wanted the subject to change quickly, not wanting to trudge up too much of his past. He wasn’t ready to reveal that they had grown up in the same town, or that Derek had remembered him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought, for a moment, that maybe Stiles was doing the same thing. His name was on all of his uniforms, and the Hale fire was well known in Beacon Hills. Maybe he was attempting to give Derek an opportunity to admit they were from the same town. Maybe he was trying to hint at something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek ignored those thoughts. They had an investigation to focus on, not the mental gymnastics he was doing to justify his own thoughts. He needed to double his focus on Brittney, try and figure out if those slashes were werewolf claws, and somehow convince Stiles that it was a human who made those marks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s head to the lake,” Stiles said, changing the subject entirely. He was avoiding the entire subject of Derek’s family, which was better for both of them. It was not something that Derek wanted to talk about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ride over in Derek’s pickup truck was both loud and silent. The truck was loud, rattling across the highway, while the two of them were silent. Stiles took notes in his little notebook, his hands moving quickly to write down information. When Derek tried to peak at what he was writing, he couldn’t read a single bit of it. He didn’t bother trying harder, considering that he was driving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they pulled up to the lake, Stiles’ eyes widened. He got out of the car quickly, walking over to where the markers were for the body. He was scribbling more furiously now, taking notes about everything. His eyes were seeing it for the first time. Derek couldn’t help but feel strange at the sight, at the sight of Stiles looking out across the water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was found here? Naked?” Stiles asked, gesturing towards the markers on the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, by a park ranger. He came by to do a morning sweep and found her here,” Derek said, slowly striding towards Stiles. Their voices carried in the cool morning air, puffing out in small aspirations because of the cold. He could see Stiles shivering a little bit, the temperature much cooler in their proximity to the lake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek paused and headed back to the truck, pulling out his spare jacket he kept in it. It was always unpredictably cold on the coast, and he knew to be prepared. He brought the jacket over to Stiles, handing it to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Stiles said absently, his eyebrows low on his forehead. He slipped on the jacket, focused on the surroundings. His teeth worked over his lips as he buried himself into the jacket, stuffing both of his hands into the pockets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything important?” Derek asked, stepping forward to stand next to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If they had dumped her into the lake too far away, her body would have sunk to the bottom. If they dumped her too close, she wouldn’t have ended up right here. She seems too far up the shore to be dumped, but she has the key signs of waterlogging,” Stiles said, tapping his pen against his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So they left her in water, and then moved her?” Derek asked, frowning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe. But there was no sign of disturbance on the sand,” Stiles said, gesturing towards where they had left footprints walking down to the marked spot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek glanced at the lake. “Did they toss her on shore from the water?” Derek asked, nodding towards the lake. “It doesn’t get deep until about twenty feet into the water.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would make sense,” Stiles said, walking further towards the water line. He glanced at the marks on the sand where the body was found and back to the water, as if considering the distance. “They would have to be strong, at least two people throwing her onto shore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much does she weigh? If it’s under 150, two guys could definitely throw her that far,” Derek said, eyeballing the distance. Or two werewolves, but he wasn’t going to say that aloud. He knew, the moment the thought popped into his brain, that she was thrown from the water by two werewolves. They knew that their scents would be untraceable because of the water, and that it would throw investigators off their trail by trying to find a dump site. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice catch, Derek,” Stiles said, walking back towards him. He bumped his shoulder into him as he passed, walking back to the car. “Now, take me to the diner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything is so quaint here,” Stiles said, rubbing his hand along the diner booth, eyes taking in Betsey’s diner. It was a staple in Florence, so Derek had forgotten about the fact that it was truly a blast from the past. He doubted that Betsey had changed much of the interior since the 1950s, which made the entire diner almost a time capsule of culture. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll get used to it,” Derek said, pushing his coffee cup towards the edge of the table, waiting for the waitress to come around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles pulled out his little notebook, wordlessly copying Derek. He scribbled another thing into the book, his hand moving fast. Derek tried to read what he wrote, but he was already closing up the notebook before he could get a good glimpse at what was there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, boys,” Erica said, sliding up to the table. She flipped her blonde hair at the sight of Stiles, placing one hand on her hip in what she probably assumed was seductive. She poured coffee in each of their mugs without them asking, smoothing her other hand down her apron. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s your husband?” Derek asked, pulling his coffee toward him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shot a death glare at Derek, as if he was somehow ruining something. “He’s picking up a new display case in the city, won’t be back for another few hours,” Erica said, turning her attention more towards Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have a stack of pancakes with a side of bacon,” Stiles said, snapping his menu shut. He glanced up at Erica, smiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re that FBI agent,” Erica said, leaning over, showcasing the way that her cleavage looked in her uniform. She practically purred as she looked at him, looking particularly carnivorous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sure am. And I’d like some fuel for my investigation,” Stiles said, sliding incrementally away from Erica. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I get the usual?” Derek asked, attempting to interrupt whatever Erica was doing. She was a shameless flirt, despite having Boyd as her loving husband, and he was sure that she would eat Stiles right up if he let her. She was daring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure thing, handsome,” Erica said, grabbing their menus. She sauntered away, putting a little swish in her hips as she rounded the counter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles and Derek sat in silence for a few moments, both of them preparing their coffees in their own ways. Derek added one packet of sugar and a little cream, while Stiles went for four packets of sugar and a lot of cream. He seemed to be attempting to make it as little like coffee as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Erica the waitress,” Stiles said, stirring his cup of coffee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She likes fresh meat,” Derek said, pulling his cup up to his lips to sip at it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles took a sip of his coffee, swishing it around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. He smiled, setting the cup down. “That’s damn good coffee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure is,” Derek said, taking another sip of his. The diner coffee was always somehow much better than anything Derek could make at home or in the station. There was something special about the diner coffee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you been living in Florence?” Stiles asked conversationally, his fingers tapping idly on the counter. He made direct eye contact, which so many people don’t do these days. His eyes were a warm brown and looking into them felt like Derek was back home, in front of a warm fireplace and not afraid of what fire could do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A few years. Almost four, I think,” Derek said, sipping at his coffee. “You’re from the Portland field office?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I like it there. They’re considerably more accepting than the Sacramento office, which was why I made the transfer. The guys in Sacramento couldn’t get over the fact that I had a boyfriend,” Stiles said, pressing his lips together. “Shame we had to break up when I moved, but at least the guys up there don’t act like dating men means I’m going to hell.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek sipped his coffee, trying to buy himself a spare moment of time. The fact that Stiles was queer, and proud enough of it to share that fact in the machismo of the FBI, was something Derek didn’t want to forget. It meant that Stiles might be interested, and that the small things Derek was picking up on might actually be attraction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t realize Sacramento was particularly homophobic,” Derek said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really the whole city, just the FBI tools. They’ll slap each others butts, but make rude comments about me?” Stiles said, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People around here are nice enough about that sort of thing. It’s sort of a keep to yourself kinda place,” Derek said, leaning back in the booth. “No one questions who you bring home, no matter the gender. Not that they’d mess with me, being police and all,” Derek added, trying his hardest to make it clear he was interested in men without saying anything explicitly. He was still getting used to saying it out loud, after so many years of staying celibate or trying to explore what was going on in his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ eyes narrowed, a smile curling at the edge of his lips. He looked down, as if trying to hide his expression. “Good to know. If only I was staying here for better reasons than a murder investigation,” Stiles said, looking back up at Derek. His eyes were kind and warm and playful, and Derek wanted to reach across the table and take his hand. Or say fuck it and kiss him. He didn’t, though, knowing that the implications could be bad for him if that was not the explicit vibes he was picking up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bet you say that all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles shook his head. “This is the first,” Stiles said, or rather admitted. He looked almost surprised to say it, his eyes widening only slightly. His eyebrows pulled together, mouth open as if to say something, when the door to the diner opened, the bells ringing out to announce the new customer. Stiles turned instinctively, his face closing off at the sight of Parrish walking in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got your text, Stiles. Figured we could go over things before we start today's interviews,” Parrish said, sliding into the booth next to Derek. He knocked elbows with him, swiping his coffee and taking a sip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perky today,” Derek muttered, sliding over in the booth to make room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lydia is coming back from Johns Hopkins tomorrow for a visit, called me this morning,” Parrish said quietly, winking at Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek hated when Lydia was in town. Not that she was a bad person, she was actually the best. Her presence in town made Parrish almost insufferable, because he was downright head over heels in love with her. He couldn’t go five minutes without talking about her when she was in town, and every time she visited it would become the only thing he could talk about for weeks. He had it handled when she was away for long stretches, making sure to rant to someone besides Derek about how he couldn’t wait to move in with her, or for her research to be published, or whatever else they were talking about that week. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t gushy, but he was happy. Which made Derek seriously reconsider his own definition of happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lydia?” Stiles asked, his eyes flicking between Derek and Parrish. “A girlfriend?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. She doesn’t come visit that often, but she’s staying for a few days. She’s off giving lectures and performing surgeries most of the time, but I’m always glad when she can spare a weekend for me,” Parrish said, rapping his knuckles on the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My best friend is named Lydia. That’s so strange,” Stiles said, looking down at his notebook. Gears seemed to be turning in his brain, his eyes unfocused, even as he looked down at the paper. He shook his head, as if to reconcentrate on the matters at hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We went down to the lake,” Derek said, gesturing for Stiles to take over the conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their food came and Stiles discussed what they had worked out at the lake. The potential of Brittney being thrown onto shore. Stiles explained how some of her injuries and her body position when they found her would be conclusive to this theory. Although, proving that someone had thrown her on shore would be another matter entirely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thrown?” Parrish asked, looking wary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone with a particular </span>
  <em>
    <span>strength</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be able to,” Derek said, trying to convey the subtle double meaning behind his words. He could see Stiles looking between them out of the corner of his eye, but he wanted Parrish to know his suspicions. His werewolf suspicions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we can get you two to throw a comparable sized dummy this afternoon,” Stiles said, jotting something down in his notebook. “Get the rest of the deputies to as well. We could get an idea of how strong and big someone would have to be to throw her,” Stiles continued. It was as if he was drawing a graph in his notebook, trying to figure out what sort of strength someone would need. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek wanted to stop him right there, because he already knew. It was a werewolf. It had to be. Parrish had to know it too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s finish up here and start our interviews for the day,” Parrish said, waving Erica down for the check. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The friends were a bust. She had a study group at 8pm, but everyone involved in the study group said that she had gotten dropped off by 8, and that no one had talked to her since. They said she left her phone in Andy’s car, the guy that drove her home. He and his girlfriend had made it back to his house at 9pm, and his girlfriend was picked up by her parents at 10pm. It was clean cut, and no one knew why she would be wandering around at night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can Janice bring me more doughnuts? I need the sugar to fuel my caffeine and let me think,” Stiles said, rubbing his temples. He glanced down at his notes, his garbled written mess, his eyes focusing on the words on the page. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was the last of her friends,” Parrish said, shutting the door to the conference room. “We’re still trying to put together a timeline of last night, but I think that we’re missing someone,” Parrish added, sitting at the end of the table. He picked up his cold coffee, sipped it, and then set it down with a grimace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles walked over to the chalkboard in the room, writing down things as he went. “We have Brittney entering her house at around 8pm after a study group, where her best friend and her boyfriend were not. They both have alibis for the first half of the night, but not the second. Until we have time of death, neither are necessarily off of the board,” Stiles said, gesturing towards the two names. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fact that the murderer was likely a werewolf was something that Derek didn’t want to bring up yet. It would be hard enough to attempt to convince Stiles that it was a likelihood without outing himself, and even then it was going to be hard to avoid any sort of persecution if Stiles tried to bring that fact back to the FBI. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All of her friends say she was at a study group with them, with Andy and his girlfriend, Shanna, driving her home. Because they have alibis until late, they aren’t ruled out, but it’s highly unlikely. It wouldn’t make sense for them to have a study group one moment, and kill her the next,” Stiles said, putting all of her friends in one group on the other side of the board. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We know whoever dumped her body had to be strong enough to dip her in the lake and throw her,” Derek said, pressing his lips together. He hadn’t smelled new werewolf on anyone in town, and he certainly hadn’t seen anything suspicious. The fact that there was a werewolf wandering around Florence did not bode well for him or Parrish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So that likely rules out any female suspects that aren’t strong enough to throw her,” Stiles said, looking at the board. He quickly crossed out all of Britney’s friends, including Natalie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But that doesn’t answer the question of the shirt. It might not be someone who killed her, but they might have more knowledge of her whereabouts after around 9pm,” Parrish said, pointing out the obvious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And we’re waiting on the autopsy,” Stiles said, looking down at his hands. He shook his head, looking back up to the two of them. “Let’s bring Natalie and Tanner back in. They might know something about her daily routines that might be helpful. At this point, we need more to go off than the autopsy and shirt. Those are going to take another day to process, at least,” Stiles said, rapping his knuckles. He strode out of the room, calling out to Janice about doughnuts and coffee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek and Parrish sat in the chairs, rubbing their hands over their faces. The complete immersion in the case meant that they were having difficulties thinking out of the box. It was hard to think of other solutions when the case was all consuming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’m gonna have Lydia take a look at the body when she gets here,” Parrish said, leaning back in his chair. “She can probably tell us more than Doug can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it was one of us,” Derek said quietly, in case Stiles was lingering at the door, listening. “The claws, the fact that they were careful to erase scents, the dumping of the body by throwing her? Those all point to a wolf,” Derek added, leaning forward in his chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you didn’t smell anything,” Parrish pointed out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek stood quickly, ideas forming in his brain. “I wanna check the woods for scent trails. That has to be a missing piece,” Derek said, immediately patting down his pockets to check if he had everything he needed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take Stiles with you. I’ll have Tanner and Natalie here when you get back,” Parrish said, standing more slowly. Before Derek could walk out of the room, Parrish was grabbing his shoulder. “I was originally planning on proposing to Lydia the next time she came in town, but now that’s sort of a bust.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Derek asked, his eyes widening in surprise. He knew they were serious, but he didn’t think she’d ever be tied down by anyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was so surprised when she said she was flying in tomorrow. I have the ring picked out and everything, but it feels sacrilegious to propose during a murder investigation,” Parrish said, shaking his head. “Would you be my best man? If she says yes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would love to,” Derek said quickly, wrapping Parrish up in a hug. He held onto him tight, making sure to rub his stubble along the side of his head. “Can’t wait for her magic to get here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m hoping she’ll be able to tell more about what killed Brittney,” Parrish whispered, pulling back from Derek. “And I want to tie myself to that magic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. I know you love her,” Derek said, twisting out of Parrish’s reach. “I got to search the woods for clues, because we still have a murder investigation that reigns more important than Lydia.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parrish waved him off, rolling his eyes. It was out of affection. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanted to come back out? We were here this morning,” Stiles said, adjusting his tie in the cab of Derek’s truck, glancing in the side mirror to smooth his hair back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to check the surroundings for anything we missed. I keep feeling like we’re missing something,” Derek said truthfully, trying to wrack his memory for any signs of scents or other werewolves in the area. He couldn’t help but think he was doing a shitty job as the protector of the town, but it wasn’t all on him. It couldn’t be all on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re getting the autopsy results back tomorrow, and we’re going to piece together a timeline. I don’t think this will be of much help,” Stiles said, glancing out the window. “Didn’t you have a team come out here and sweep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If by team you mean Parrish and me, then yes. But we didn’t check much of the woods. We looked at the beach,” Derek said, turning down towards the lake. “We don’t have enough manpower for a search team.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we will find something then,” Stiles muttered, shaking his head. “I always forget that you small town folk don’t have the manpower like we do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek snorted. “There’s five of us at the station. That’s it. We have Janice during the day and Stephanie and Alexandria at night. The worst crime that’s happened since I arrived was a three car pile up on the 101, and we were splitting jurisdiction with the next down over. Things like this don’t happen. Ever,” Derek said, feeling sort of bitter. It was hard enough on everyone to have a murder in their town, and even without al the details, people put two and two together with the FBI agent in town. It wouldn't be long before there was panic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” Stiles said, glancing at Derek out of the corner of his eye. “So you’re unprepared.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not unprepared, at least not Jordan or me,” Derek huffed. “Both of us are from a metaphorical hell hole, with real crime and everything. We only moved here because Jordan got a job and I followed suit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell hole? Sounds like my hometown,” Stiles said, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek sighed, knowing that they were talking about the same place. He still couldn’t figure out the best way to tell him that they were from the same town, cut from the same cloth. The only solace was that if Stiles knew about how hellish Beacon Hills could be, with werewolves and territorial disputes and a literal nemeton that brought chaos, then he had to know about the supernatural. He had to know that things like werewolves and hellhounds and banshees existed. Although, explaining Lydia was not something anyone wanted to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pulled into the parking lot, deja vu from this morning. Derek got out of his truck, his eyes immediately examining the treeline to determine which way would be the easiest for a pair of wolves to walk through carrying a teenage girl. She didn’t have any scratches on her from branches, which meant that they carried her gingerly. She might have even walked out with them willingly, and they murdered her in the woods. Derek shuddered at the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which way do you want to start?” Stiles asked, gesturing towards the shoreline. The main stretch of the beach was mostly sand and a few big rocks, but the rest of it dissolved into trees and rocky beaches quickly in either direction. On the left was a thicker brush, with lower hanging branches. The right looked much more clear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go right. I doubt they went through that side,” Derek said, gesturing towards the thicket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your call, boss,” Stiles said, trailing along behind Derek. His eyes captured the entire scene, his gaze wandering all about. Derek had his nose to the grindstone, attempting to figure out if there was any particular scent or trail that would signal to him that there were wolves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had walked into the trees for only a few steps before Derek caught an old scent, one from a few days ago. It was weak, but it was a pair of wolves. Their scents were so similar it was almost as if they were related. Or closer than that. Maybe even twins. The scents were close, but it was clear that Brittney was with them. Her scent covered it all up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This way,” Derek said insistently, following the scent through the trees. He looked for anything that could be a sign of struggle or any shred of evidence. He couldn’t possibly know what exactly to look for, considering that her killers were likely wolves, but he needed to figure it out. He needed to bring justice for her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know?” Stiles asked, following him dutifully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just know,” Derek said shortly, not wanting to get into it. He could feel the scents strengthen, getting more pungent as they went. No one had gone into these woods since Brittney had died, so it was an undisturbed trail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It quickly turned towards the water, and once they reached the shore, it stopped. Predictably. “They got into the water here, and carried her body back to the lake entrance,” Derek said, gesturing along the water. Brittney’s scent was so pungent at this particular place that he spun in a circle, attempting to find any piece of evidence. After a moment, he spotted something tucked underneath a log. It was a hairband, one like the kind that Brittney had worn in a few of her pictures. Derek picked it up with a gloved hand, holding it out to Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her hairband,” Stiles muttered, immediately jotting something down in his notebook. “This has to be it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Lydia?” Stiles asked, standing. </p>
<p>“Stiles? What the hell are you doing here?” Lydia asked, pushing past Parrish.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And now they know!</p>
<p>This chapter was super hard to write for some reason, so let's hope that it flows a little easier for the rest of the chapters. I am going through my plotline to make sure everything is going smoothly, so we should be on track chapter-wise. It feels so crazy to be halfway through already, but I feel like we're so much closer than any of y'all know. </p>
<p>Thanks for the comments and kudos. Y'all are my inspiration and I appreciate each and every one of you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time they had made it back to the station, the prospect of interviewing Tanner and Natalie again didn’t feel nearly as important as the fact that they had found the exact part where Brittney was likely dumped, if not attacked and killed at. There was an energy in the truck on the way to the station, a sort of knowing that they had figured out one piece of the puzzle. It was hard not to want to shout it from the rooftops, that they had a definitive clue, but it would have been wildly disrespectful. Now was the time to double down on the investigation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parrish’s eyes only widened at the sight of Brittney’s headband in an evidence bag. His face shut down into a hardness that Derek knew was not a good sign. He pulled the two of them into his office, making sure the door was shut behind them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The autopsy report showed that Brittney had been penetrated by at least two men before death,” Parrish said, his eyes looking down at where Derek was still gripping the evidence bag. “I’ll send another search team out there, but that is likely the scene of her murder,” Parrish continued, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any other clues from the autopsy?” Stiles asked, his voice tight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was a preliminary result. Doc wanted to tell us as soon as he knew,” Parrish said. He dropped heavily into his desk chair, his hands pushing over his face. He leaned back, the exhaustion and sorrow shown in his posture. He was clearly hurting because of this new evidence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek felt glued to where he was standing. He was torn between wanting to hunt down those who did it, and wolfing out in Parrish’s office. He could feel his wolf itching under his skin, howling at the disgrace and damage done to the teenage girl. He wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything but be stuck in Parrish’s office. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The autopsy report should be finished tomorrow, and Lydia’s flying in. I’ll have her look over everything again, and let’s hope that there’s some positive news,” Parrish said, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles grabbed the evidence bag from Derek, holding the headband up to Parrish’s lap to examine it. He looked up between the two of them, his lips pressed together. “There’s a hair in here that’s not Brittney’s. She’s a blonde, and this hair is dark, almost black,” Stiles said, the plastic evidence bag crinkling under his hands. “Let’s send it to the lab, try and figure out who else was wearing this headband.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll drive it over,” Derek said, taking the bag back. He glanced down at it, wondering if one of the killers slipped the headband onto their head before slashing her back, or strangling her. He wondered what werewolf would kill a teenage girl for kicks, for the thrill of it. Or, if she was killed by someone else and the wolf did the courtesy of throwing her on shore. There were so many questions to answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll handle the next round of interviews with Natalie and Tanner. You two take the night off,” Stiles said, looking back at the door of the room. “It’ll be quick, and I can compile their statements. There’s no point in waiting around in the misery around here today when there won’t be any results until tomorrow morning,” Stiles said. He nodded at Parrish, turning to look at Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like their eye contact lasted minutes instead of seconds, but that’s sort of how it always felt with Stiles. It felt like every second lasted minutes, and every minute lasted hours. He could feel his wolf calm down at the deep glance, at the way that Stiles nodded his head at him. He watched him exit the room, swinging the door shut behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go home, Derek. Rest up so we can hit the ground running tomorrow,” Parrish said, his words muffled by his hands over his face. “Hopefully Lyds can get her magic going and—” Parrish cut himself off with a groan, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going for a run, so don’t worry when you can’t reach me. See you tomorrow,” Derek said, rapping his knuckles on the edge of Parrish’s desk before he walked out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he got home, he was barely holding on, shifting back and forth in his truck. He barely stripped off his clothes before he was shifting, his bones crunching painfully as he went from man to wolf. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning, Derek arrived to doughnuts and coffee from Janice, and Stiles sitting in the conference room with his notes spread about him. He took a seat across from him, glancing at the files and notes that Stiles had spread about him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you find out from Tanner and Natalie yesterday?” Derek asked, trying to read any of the files upside down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wrote it down,” Stiles muttered, eyes focused on reading the small amount of the autopsy report already turned into them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek reached and grabbed Stiles’ notebook, turning it towards himself so that he could attempt to read his chicken scratch. But, instead of words, Derek found scribbles, things that couldn’t possibly be read. “What the hell is this?” Derek asked, blinking a few times to attempt to decipher the notebook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, his head snapping up. He snatched the notebook out of Derek’s hands, snapping it shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles, those weren’t words,” Derek said, trying to catch his eye. Instead of the usual intense eye contact, the kind that Stiles didn’t back down from, he was avoiding eye contact, glancing down and away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re my notes. Leave it,” Stiles said. He looked up at Derek, his eyes hard and cold. It was a change from the warm intensity that Stiles always brought. He looked mean, and dangerous. He looked like what Derek would have expected an FBI agent to look like. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek held his hands up, trying to posture himself as innocent. If he knew that Stiles wrote in some sort of gibberish, half letters half scribbles, he would have left him alone. The fact that Stiles was writing what some would consider to be the work of a madman, Derek was trying to ignore. He was an FBI agent for a reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, guys, I brought Lydia by to take a look at the notes before taking her over—” Parrish started, walking into the conference room with Lydia following close behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lydia?” Stiles asked, standing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles? What the hell are you doing here?” Lydia asked, pushing past Parrish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek watched as she flung her arms around Stiles’ neck, hugging him like old friends. She even ruffled his hair, laughing a light, almost giddy laugh. The way his hands tightened around her seemed familiar, almost as if they were long term friends. Derek glanced over at Parrish, who looked just as confused as he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lyds?” Parrish asked quietly, his hand lifting as if he was going to reach for her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lydia pushed away from Stiles, shaking her head. “This idiot is my best friend, Jordan,” Lydia said, punching Stiles on the shoulder. “Said he was off on a case, but didn’t mention where. Just said some small town a few hours away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t tell me your boyfriend lived in Florence either,” Stiles pointed out, glancing at Parrish. “Wait, you said that he was originally from Beacon Hills.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We both are,” Derek said, nodding towards Parrish. “And you are too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles shook his head, his eyes locking onto Derek’s. His normal intensity was there, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You knew but didn’t say anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles, your dad was the one who told me my entire family burned up in a fire. I wasn’t about to trudge up that memory just to prove to you that we were from the same home town. I figured you didn’t remember,” Derek said. He half shrugged, as if that would relieve any of the pressure on the situation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Derek </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hale</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Stiles said, glancing down at his hands. “How the hell could I not put two and two together.” He looked as if he was reconsidering everything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parrish looked at all of them, the way that they were postured, and clapped his hands together. “Let’s go to the diner, get breakfast, figure out this whole hometown scenario, and then work on the case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Stiles or Derek could say anything, Lydia was hooking arms with Parrish and heading out the door with him, their voices low as they spoke. Presumably, they were talking about Stiles and Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Derek offered, as if that was some sort of consolation prize for the fact that he willingly didn’t reveal this particular piece of information. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should have figured it out. I just thought it was a coincidence, and since we have the case, I didn’t think to look much further into it,” Stiles said. “I didn’t think you’d look like this all grown up,” Stiles said quieter, his eyes raking over Derek’s body. He rubbed a hand over his gelled hair, pressing his lips together into a smile. “Better not keep them waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you there,” Derek said, trailing after Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek arrived last to the diner after sitting in his car for a whole minute, trying to psyche himself up for going inside. It felt as if the guilty secret that Derek had was unleashed, and the quiet tension that they had underneath all of their conversations would be gone, erased. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he walked inside, he saw Stiles and Lydia chatting, Parrish glancing down at his notes with one arm around Lydia. He had no other choice but to sit next to Stiles, to feel the heat of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Derek greeted, sliding in next to Stiles. He smiled politely at Lydia. “Hey, Lydia. Didn’t get a proper greeting earlier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As long as you don’t wolf out on me, it’s a pleasure,” Lydia said, leaning into Parrish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek paused, his heart leaping into his throat. It was one thing for them to joke about that when it was the three of them alone, but joking about that in front of Stiles was an entirely different and new thing. He could feel his metaphorical hackles raise, his hands tensing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He knows,” Parrish said quietly, his eyes not looking up from the case. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jordan is just pissed that I didn’t tell him my best friend was a magical FBI agent,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, leaning back into Parrish’s arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles shook his head, jotting down in his notebook. “A spark. That’s nothing compared to you or anyone else. It just means a glimpse, or a preview of what actual magic looks like,” Stiles said. “All I can do is glamour this notebook and hope my spark is enough to save someone’s life someday,” Stiles added, pushing the notebook towards Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The scribbles now made sense. They weren’t indecipherable scribblings of a madman. They were the magicked glamour of an actual notebook. Which meant that Stiles had things written in there that he didn’t want anyone else to see. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Makes more sense than my theories on your notes,” Derek said gruffly, pushing the notebook back. Stiles’ fingers brushed his and he tried to ignore the zing of sensation up his arm. He hated the idea of sparks flying with an actual spark, with a magic user. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother used to say that relationships with magical users never ended well. There was some sort of great grandmother who was killed by her magical husband, and Derek had barely survived his relationship with Jennifer. All the attraction that Derek had originally felt towards Stiles was immediately cancelled out by the warnings; he was not prepared to date another magical user, not when his last girlfriend made him both skeptical and emotionally scarred. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I’m sorry about this whole thing,” Stiles said, holding his hands out. “I should have put two and two together faster, but I didn’t recognize either of you right away. I figured any of the names would have been coincidence, especially since Parrish moved to Beacon Hills after I left for college,” Stiles said, gesturing helplessly towards Parrish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I have no qualms,” Parrish said, his arm tightening around Lydia. “Makes it easier that you know about us now, because we think this was a wolf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ eyes snapped to Derek, looking at his side profile as Derek stared down at the case files on the table. “A wolf?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at the scratch marks on her back. They are clearly claw marks if you look at the depth of contact and the way they drag. I would know. Only a wolf could have thrown her on shore, and would have known to take a water route to completely erase scents,” Derek said, gesturing towards the case file. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have to take another look at her,” Lydia said, pulling the case towards her. “You think it’s connected to your others?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles was still staring at Derek’s side profile, his eyes quizzical. When Derek turned to look at him, he quickly broke eye contact, his heart pounding harder than usual. “I’ve always thought it was a wolf, but I never had anyone to consult with,” Stiles said, looking down at his notes. He fiddled with a pen, clearly more nervous now than before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was strange to see the shift in Stiles’ personality. Whether it was the presence of Lydia or the knowledge that he was sitting at a table with a wolf and a hellhound, he was fidgety. More nervous seeming. It was like he was more aware of his actions, or his heart beat, or his scent. This was the part that Derek hated, when someone would have the moment of realization and want to back off. It was like he was trying to pull out of what had already started, like he was taking back all of the moments that felt whole and complete. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can take a look at the others,” Derek said quietly, nudging his knee against Stiles’ under the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have to get approval to pull you on as a consultant,” Stiles said, jotting something down. He flipped back a few pages, searching for something else. “Before this whole debacle, I was going to brief you on what Tanner and Natalie said,” Stiles added, trying to steer the conversation back to why they were all sitting there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He launched into the notes debrief. Their knowledge of Brittney’s friend group seemed to be fairly accurate in comparison to the study group. The only name on the list that stood out was Cara Brigton, a girl who was two years older who worked at the gas station on the way out of town. She was someone that Natalie mentioned briefly as being friendly with Brittney, giving her discounts and stuff, but not anything more than that based on Natalie’s knowledge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So that’s the next step,” Parrish said, taking a sip of his coffee. “We have to interview her, figure out what her relationship was to Brittney. See if that gets us any closer to finding who killed her.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it was a wolf, then none of this is going to be helpful,” Lydia said, her nails clacking on the table as she tapped her fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter. If it’s a serial killing, any clues that lead to a further motive are helpful,” Stiles said. He reached across Derek to grab a piece of the case file, his shoulder brushing against Derek’s chest. When he leaned back, he pulled away from Derek, his scent a mix of emotions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her cell phone?” Lydia asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Missing,” Derek said. “We searched the area fully.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were interrupted by Erica swinging by to fill their coffees, her hips swinging in her uniform, eyes watching the table carefully. “Working hard or hardly working?” Erica asked, hand on her hip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You remember Lydia,” Parrish said, gesturing towards her. He rubbed his hand across her shoulder lovingly, smiling brightly towards Erica. He was never too shy to show off Lydia, and never too proud to tell everyone how great of a doctor she was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember,” Erica said, smiling down at Derek. “When are you going to get a girl like her?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not interested in women anymore, Erica,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. “Do I need to tell you about my tragic list of ex girlfriends again?” He would rather not, but he at least wanted to banter enough that she would go away. Sometimes she forgot that sticking her nose in everyone’s business was only cause for trouble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll find you a nice man sometime so you can go on double dates with me and Boyd,” Erica said, patting Derek on the shoulder. She sweeped away as she came, hips swinging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The table was silent for a few moments. It didn’t feel awkward before, not when Stiles had first shown up or anytime after. With all of this knowledge overturned, it felt strange to act conversationally, as if they hadn’t been keeping secrets from each other. Derek sort of wished he could take it all back, but then they wouldn’t be where they were. It was not ideal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to take Lydia over to the coroner’s office to chat with him. Do you think y’all can take this investigation of Cara?” Parrish asked, gesturing between the two of them. “We can reconvene this afternoon, and I’m taking the night off,” Parrish  said, pulling Lydia tighter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure thing. We’re gonna stick around her for a bit to go over the crime scene details again under a new, more knowledgeable light,” Stiles said, waving off the two of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They said their goodbyes and slid out of the booth, leaving Stiles and Derek sitting side by side, glancing down at the notes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek slid to the other side of the table, pushing their cups to the side to make room for the information in the file. There were a lot of things to consider for the crime scene, but there was something at the back of Derek’s brain that was bothering him. “I think the kill was a full moon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you keep track of those kinds of things?” Stiles asked, glancing up at him. His eyes flitted over Derek’s face quickly, as if assessing him, before darting back down to his notes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a born wolf. I haven’t thought of moon phases since puberty,” Derek said. He couldn’t help but look at Stiles’ face freely, now that he wasn’t making the same intense eye contact as before. He wanted to trace his moles with his fingertips, run his thumbs over his pink lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles looked at his phone, pulling up the moon phases. “Fuck, it was a full moon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’d bet that every kill before this was on a full moon,” Derek said, tapping the case file. “These wolves are evil, the bad kind. The ones that listen to lore and take it as truth, and are far more dangerous than they might appear. This is dangerous for you. Just wanted to let you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine,” Stiles said, glancing up at Derek. He said it casually, but he locked eyes with Derek, his eyes determined. “I know how to protect myself, and I have you and Jordan as backup,” he added, a confidence in his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And magic, apparently,” Derek muttered. He was still sort of in disbelief that Stiles could do magic. That he was a spark, and one powerful enough to glamour a notebook at that. This wasn’t kitchen magic or blood magic, this was a pure spark. Under any other circumstances, this was the kind of magic that would be recruited for an emissary of a pack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you don’t think of me differently,” Stiles said, piling the notes back together into the file. He refused to look up at Derek, his eyes downcast to conceal any emotion within them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t,” Derek said simply. “Can we get on with the investigating? I can drive,” Derek said, rapping his knuckles on the counter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They found Cara out at the gas station on the edge of town. Likely the last independently owned gas station in the area. She was sitting on a bench along the front of the small mini mart, one foot propped up next to her and an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. She had a permanent scowl on her lips, her brow only furrowing deeper at the sight of Derek’s truck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No cruiser today?” Cara drawled, tucking her cigarette into the breast pocket of the shirt she was wearing. She stood, ambling over to Derek’s truck, taking her sweet time wandering over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not today,” Derek said, hopping out of his truck. He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his pants, stepping a little wider in an attempt to convey authority. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced between him and Stiles where he was rounding the front of the truck. She licked her lips, glancing back at Derek. “You’re probably here about Brittney.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guessed right,” Stiles said, taking out his notebook. He immediately started scribbling down details. His eyes flicked up to hers, assessing her with deep eye contact and a quizzical brow. He glanced at Derek, his eyes questioning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just want to know your relationship with Brittney, and if you saw her the night she died,” Derek said, trying to be friendly. He knew better than to scare off a young person who didn’t grow up well. He remembered nights picking her up at the local bar because she was trying to sneak in, or hearing that she got drunk at the lake with a bunch of older men. He felt sort of protective of someone who clearly didn’t understand how to expend their energy in a productive way. He was one of those kids. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna throw me into the back of your truck for old times sake?” Cara said, winking at Derek. She had the audacity to cock her hip a little more, letting her hands fall to her waist and tuck her shirt tighter against her body. As if that was somehow going to be alluring for either of the grown men. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to. Just answer the questions,” Derek said, pressing his lips together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced between the two of them, eyes narrowing at the way Stiles stood a step closer to Derek than wholly necessary. Her eyes watched the two of them for a long moment, evaluating the two of them. She had always been attached to Derek since the first night that he arrested her, and he never wanted to encourage anything with her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brittney and I were hooking up on the side,” Cara said, slipping the cigarette out of her pocket. She fiddled with it between her fingers, her eyes watching her hands. “I liked her, and we’d go hook up at my house sometimes. She’d always bring some food and make it like a date, even if we could never go out in public.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles scribbled a few things down, his eyes watching her carefully. He flicked his gaze towards Derek, as if to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>is she lying?</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Derek mouthed </span>
  <em>
    <span>truth</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him. Nothing in her story so far had even given a single inkling of a lie, or a half truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Last week she said she couldn’t see me again, that she had other people she was going to see instead. It fucking sucked. Is that what you want from me?” Cara asked, grabbing a lighter from her pocket. Her hands shook as she put the cigarette in her mouth, cupping her hands up to light it. She looked around, as if remembering they were in a gas station, and lowered the lighter. “She was fucking around with a few other people besides Tanner. I knew that much. I was the only girl, though, to my knowledge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was completely different from many of the descriptions of her classmates. All of her friends had said that she was a polite and good girl, and besides her troublemaker boyfriend, she was the kind of person who everyone liked. She always went to her study group on Tuesday’s, kept her nose clean, and had good grades. Screwing around with more than a few people could have explained her having sex with at least two men before death, but it didn’t rule out sexual assault of any kind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the t-shirt,” Derek said, thinking back to what he found underneath Brittney’s bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cara laughed sickly, her voice cracking as she tilted her head up to the sky. She looked sad, desperate, as if it was the moment she realized how awfully fucked up this whole thing was. “We traded shirts after hooking up once. I have hers at home, if it matters to you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you love her?” Stiles asked seriously, genuinely. He spoke quietly, as if not to disturb her any more than they already had. They were not necessarily expecting them to be lovers, and yet they were here asking if she had loved Brittney. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I might have. If we were to stay together longer,” Cara said, shrugging, as if trying to shrug off all of the pain and hurt. She turned away from them for a moment, one hand coming up to brush across her face. Her dark hair fanned out around her head, covering her face and keeping her face obscured. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was quiet between Stiles and Derek, the two of them unsure. Derek wanted to lay a hand on Cara’s shoulder, try and comfort her in some way. It was not frequently that Derek was talking to someone who was crying, or interviewing people about dead loved ones. He barely made it through telling Brittney’s parents about her, and now he was grilling a girl about her dead lover. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you know anything about her whereabouts last night, let us know,” Stiles said, reaching out with his card in hand. She took it from him silently, walking back towards the mini mart and leaving Derek and Stiles standing there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They got back into the truck, Stiles buckling himself with a casualness that Derek found irritating. It was hard not to make a face at the way that Stiles had treated these interviews and played them off as simple. He likely had never been on the receiving end of the interview, of crying while a police officer looked on at you. It was not easy to lose loved ones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can you act like it doesn’t affect you?” Derek asked, starting his truck. He pulled out of the gas station, his fists tightening around the steering wheel. It was hard to see people fall apart in front of him, even when it was all to find the murderer of a teenage girl. Seeing the way that a single life has touched lives around it made Derek’s heart hurt. He couldn’t help but think about his own family, about the way that he missed them endlessly always. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It does. But I can’t show that to anyone else,” Stiles said simply, honestly. “If I let it show, then I would be a shitty FBI agent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek sighed, shifting his shoulders as he pressed his wolf down under his skin, ignoring the way his skin crawled with the urge to shift. “Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No need to apologize,” Stiles said, reaching over and laying one warm hand on Derek’s arm. The contact of his skin made a zing of heat zip up his body, his skin feeling hot. He wanted to close his eyes and lean into the contact, but he focused on the road, blaming the heat and electricity on the fact that Stiles was a spark. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Every pair of eyes turned towards Derek, gazes intense and stares unwavering. </p>
<p>“What? You think I know who did this?” Derek asked, rearing his head back. “I checked the scene, and they were all pretty careful to avoid scent detection. I don’t magically know all werewolves.” It was actually a rude assumption to think that he would know any and all werewolves purely because he was also one.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Thanksgiving! Here's some smut. </p>
<p>No but for real, thanks. Thanks for the comments and the kudos and all the kind support. This was sort of a passion project for me, and it's my first time really delving into a mystery, and y'all have been so supportive. Thanks. </p>
<p>Now, eat some pie and have some smut, as a treat.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Back at the station, Parrish was sitting in the conference room with Lydia, the two of them hunched over files. They were having a quiet conversation, only Parrish looking up when Stiles and Derek walked in. </span>
</p>
<p> <span>“The autopsy report came back,” Parrish said, his lips pressed together. “Nothing particularly notable, except for the fact that she swallowed this.” He held up a plastic bag containing a singular key with a broken off keychain. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles took the bag, holding it up to examine the key itself. Derek looked over his shoulder, watching as Stiles fiddled with the key chain through the plastic. It looked like a hotel key chain, like the old school kind that used to come on all of the keys. In town, there was only one hotel that still used physical keys to all of their rooms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a key to a room at the Mountainside,” Derek said, pointing to the keychain. “It’s the only hotel who uses real keys anymore. And it broke just above the room number,” Derek said, pointing out the keychain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Tanner’s dad’s hotel,” Parrish said, straightening up. “It’s the closest building to the lake.” He patted his gun belt down for security, standing as if to run off towards the hotel with his guns blazing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sit, Parrish,” Stiles said firmly, pulling out a chair. He sat, pulling the autopsy file over towards him. His eyes focused on the papers, sorting through the data and chemical analysis charts towards what he really wanted: the dna sample results. When he didn’t see Parrish or Derek sit, he glanced up at them again, eyes questioning. “I said sit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They complied, sitting down. Parrish tucked himself close to Lydia, his arm resting on the back of her chair. Instead of sitting at a normal distance away, Derek sat close to Stiles, sliding his chair over so that he could look at the documents at the same time. He definitely had no ulterior motives to sliding his chair over, or pressing the front of his shoulder against the back of Stiles’. He waited for the zing of electricity to pass between them, and was almost disappointed when nothing happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One DNA match of two. That’s not bad,” Stiles said, grabbing a pen. He jotted something down in his notebook, leaning backwards in his chair to press his shoulder against Derek’s firmly. He was playing into the contact, giving as much as he was getting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?” Parrish asked, looking up at the two of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor Andrews,” Derek said, the disgust barely held from his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why say it like that?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. He glanced back down at the name, as if it was going to give him more information with a second glance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We arrested him a few months ago on a breaking and entering. And a few months before that on a sexual assault case that fizzled out. He’s kind of a shit head,” Derek explained, tapping his name on the paper. “We have his DNA on file from the sexual assault, but it didn’t pan out because there was no viable DNA on the girl.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lydia shook her head. “The other DNA has to be the werewolf that scratched up her back,” Lydia said, holding up the crime scene photo of her naked back, marked up. She pointed towards the bruise pattern on her left wrist. “No human is strong enough to fracture the head of a humerus through a single handed grip like this. I doubt her killer is this Connor kid,” Lydia added, her nose wrinkling in disgust. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every pair of eyes turned towards Derek, gazes intense and stares unwavering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? You think I know who did this?” Derek asked, rearing his head back. “I checked the scene, and they were all pretty careful to avoid scent detection. I don’t magically know all werewolves.” It was actually a rude assumption to think that he would know any and all werewolves purely because he was also one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If we interview Connor, we can get a further timeline of the night. With the string of cases like this, and my experience with the last ones, they’ve likely already moved on to their next victim,” Stiles said, glancing over his shoulder at Derek. He looked back to Parrish and Lydia, his eyes glancing once over their faces. </span>
</p>
<p> <span>“I didn’t find anything that the coroner didn’t, so this might be the only option,” Lydia said, shrugging. She flipped her hair over one shoulder, glancing at Parrish as she did. Her fingers flicked through pages quickly, as if searching for another one of the images she was holding. After a moment she pulled out another glossy image, laying it out in front of them. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“The letter?” Derek asked, leaning forward. His shoulder pushed against Stiles’, brushing past it. He tried not to think of the way they were touching, of the way that they were pretending like it was casual when it wasn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s these letters. In total we have P, two As, H, K, and L,” Lydia started, jotting them down onto a scrap piece of paper. She then wrote down the same letters into a different order, flipping it back around for Stiles and Derek to look at it. Now it spelled ALPHA K. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek could feel his skin crawl at the sight of the word Alpha. It was one that he would recognize, one that he knew was central and essential to any and all werewolves. Being outside of a pack, it had a special significance for Derek. It was hard— impossible— to survive without one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Derek said, blinking his eyes as if the paper was suddenly going to change what it said. He glanced up at the table, at everyone around him. They were looking at him again, the same look from before, the one that said this case was now firmly in his territory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it could be spelling out an Alpha’s name, but we don’t know because it clearly isn’t complete,” Lydia said, shaking her head. She tapped the word she had written out for Derek, her eyes locking with his. “You’ll figure it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sure fucking hope so,” Derek said under his breath, trying not to think too hard about the implications of it. He felt guilty enough about the fact that a werewolf had trampled through town and killed an innocent teenage girl, but now it was an Alpha who was making a direct threat. Derek had made it his responsibility to protect the town when he had moved, and it was his job to figure out who was terrorizing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles dropped his hand on Derek’s shoulder, palm warm. “Let’s go interview that Connor guy. Jordan, Lyds, take the night off. We can reconvene tomorrow and go over everything else. With a werewolf killer, it might be awhile before we find any other concrete evidence,” Stiles said, running a hand over his head. He was dislodging the gelled back style, some pieces sticking up in the back. He seemed tired for the first time since he had arrived. There were no noticeable physical signs, but Derek could feel the way he was holding himself and the tired ache in his bones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A pleasure, boys,” Lydia said, nodding to the two of them. She stood to gather her things, tucking her jacket around her torso and effectively dismissing all of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drive to the hotel was quiet except for the radio, which Stiles kept at a low volume but flicked through almost constantly. It was as if he couldn’t decide on a channel or a song, which was fine with Derek. He didn’t really keep up with popular music anyways, so it wasn’t like he had any particular preference for anything that the radio would be playing. He liked hearing Stiles hum along to the ones he likes or make faces of disgust at the ones he didn’t. It was a strange reprieve from the investigation, when they drove in the car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why the hotel first?” Derek asked, looking at the darkening sky outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I figured we should know why the hell she swallowed a key first,” Stiles said, glancing out the window. He wrote something down in his notebook, tapping the pen against his leg as he thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you think they probably had sex in the hotel room?” Derek asked, turning down the road towards the hotel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles shrugged, tucking the pen back into his pocket, the notebook following it. He shifted in his seat, straightening his tie and smoothing down the collar of his shirt. “It’s a safe guess. I doubt she had sex with him and then rented the hotel room for a werewolf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But if she did, I could get a good scent. See if I recognized it,” Derek pointed out, rounding into a parking spot. He put the car into park, letting it idle for a second before turning it off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence in the car was deafening. Derek’s hand hesitated when he took the keys out of the ignition, waiting for something else to happen. By now, if they had been dating, Derek would have already pushed him down into the seats of the cab and kissed him. He would have let his hands trail along his shoulders as he ground his hips down into Stiles’, panting into his mouth because he could. When they were confined like this, Stiles’ scent wrapping around him, it felt comforting. Almost reassuring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s do this thing,” Stiles said, straightening his spine as if preparing himself to walk inside. He reached over and pat Derek’s arm reassuringly, sparing him only the barest of glances before hopping out of the cab, smoothing his suit jacket down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek got out quickly, locking up the truck manually before half jogging to follow Stiles towards the hotel. The looming presence of it, all wood and rising out of the wilderness like some beacon of civilization. He hated this place. There always seemed to be something happening at the hotel. Derek tried to pass those calls off on any other deputy, his skin crawling at the presence of the hotel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tanner’s dad owned the hotel? Does that mean he knows about whoever Brittney rented the hotel room for?” Stiles asked, opening the doors to the hotel. He strided past the front desk, heading towards the elevator bank. He hit the button for the elevator, glancing around him at the hotel lobby. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Skipping the formalities?” Derek asked, gesturing back towards the welcome desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unnecessary,” Stiles said, waving it off. “I know that small town work requires a level of talking and friendliness, but I also would like to find out if Brittney had sex in that hotel room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek got into the elevator with him, staying quiet as it clicked up to the third floor. When it dinged, he followed Stiles out, reading the determination in his body language and knowing to stay quiet. He liked Stiles, and despite not knowing him for very long, he was starting to pick up on some of the social clues that he had. He wasn’t very fond of discussion while on the trail of something, and when he wasn’t interested in talking, he wasn’t going to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked up to 312, the number on the key, and inserted the key they found in Brittney’s stomach into the keyhole, twisting it to unlock it. There was a click as it unlocked, which meant that at some point Brittney had locked the door before she was killed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go first,” Stiles said, gesturing towards the open door. “I don’t want to corrupt the scents.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek shrugged, knowing that wasn’t the case. He had Stiles’ scent in his nose all day, he could decipher between a wolf’s and Stiles’ scent now. But, that was not necessarily something he wanted to advertise. He was not particularly interested in putting up a billboard saying he was sexually interested in Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he entered the room, he was almost overwhelmed with the scent of sex. It was everywhere, cloying his senses. There was a distinct smell of a girl, of Brittney, and then the sour scent of her male counterpart. The sheets were messy with their sex, and besides the messy sheets, there was nothing else particularly distinct about the room. There was nothing left behind besides a girls jacket. Brittney’s jacket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come in,” Derek said, gesturing for Stiles to follow him in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A fuckfest in here,” Stiles muttered, glancing at the bed. “I figured it had to be a sex place for her.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t explain the keychain breaking. Or her swallowing the key,” Derek pointed out, his eyes scanning the room. The scent of sex was thick, too much for Derek’s senses. He could tell for sure that there was only one man in the room having sex with her, which meant that the mystery wolf was nowhere to be scene in the hotel room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have to interview that Connor guy. Figure out her timeline, when a wolf could have met up with her,” Derek said, glancing around the room. He was trying to notice anything out of the ordinary, anything that could be a clue or left behind for someone to find. Even a piece of DNA, a hair tie, a bobby pin. Something so that they knew she was really and truly there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles bent down and grabbed a scrap of paper off the floor with a gloved hand, pinching it between two fingers. “A receipt for some McDonalds. Time stamp says 11:18, which puts her here around that time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another piece in the timeline,” Derek commented, shaking his head. “Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Fuck indeed,” Stiles said, grabbing an evidence bag out. “We can check it for prints and DNA, but I bet that either Brittney or Connor bought that, so it’s sort of useless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One step forward, two steps back,” Derek muttered, sighing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” Stiles said, walking out of the room quickly. There was no other choice but to follow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor works at the diner?” Stiles asked, flipping through pages as they drove through town, the sky darkening as they drove. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He works at night. The diner is open 24/7,” Derek said, flicking the headlights on. He could see people ducking into shops and getting into their cars as he drove past, the darkness of the sky determining when everyone went home for the evening. It was much different than cities, which came alive at night. In Florence, everything was closed by 7pm except the diner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And he was having sex with Brittney, a teenager,” Stiles muttered, shaking his head. “This is the part of cases I don’t like. Because even if he didn’t kill her, he’s 27. He’s only two years younger than me. That’s statutory rape,” Stiles ranted, snapping the folder shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek suppressed a shudder at the words “statutory rape”. Those were words he was not fond of. He hadn’t talked to anyone besides Parrish about the case he filed as a teenager against Kate Argent, and he certainly wasn’t going to reveal the fact that he was a victim of an older woman who eventually burned his house down. That wasn’t necessarily light driving conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes you want to just punch guys like that, you know? Lock them up forever for being assholes,” Stiles continued, ranting. His hands were flailing, something that he usually didn’t do when he was in control, when he was being Agent instead of just Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we talk about something else?” Derek gritted out, turning down the street to the diner. He ignored the look that Stiles gave him, the way that Stiles’ eyes were watching his profile as if he was remembering something, or figuring something out. The intensity of his gaze was not something Derek felt like dealing with right now, not when he was feeling tired and frustrated and far too vulnerable for his own good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here anyways,” Stiles said, gesturing out the front window. The diner looked quiet, the inside lit up but only one customer in the whole building. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They got out of Derek’s truck, both beelining for the diner entrance. Stiles hauled the door open, motioning with one had for Derek to enter first. The warmth of the diner was a warm embrace, but the sight of Connor was not. It was hard not to see him and let emotion cloud his judgement, but Derek knew that he hadn’t killed Brittney, unless he was some secret Alpha werewolf behind everyone’s backs. But Derek would have smelled him by now, found him out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor Anderson?” Stiles asked, approaching the counter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sauntered over, slinging a dirty towel over his shoulder and wiping his hands down his apron. “How can I help y’all? Start off with a pot of coffee?” Connor said, glancing between the two of them. His eyes flicked to Derek’s gun on his hip and back to his face, his scent turning fearful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, we’d like you to answer some questions,” Stiles said, pulling out his FBI badge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This caused Cooper to deflate, his eyes glancing at the door behind them. If he wanted to make a run for it, his opportunity was long lost. He looked as if he considered running into the back, if his half step backwards was any indication. Instead, his shoulders slumped, mouth pressing into a hard line. “Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek lead them over to a booth in the corner, one where he could watch the doors and ensure that Cooper wasn’t going to make a run for it the moment that they were distracted. Not that Derek couldn’t quickly catch up with him, but he didn’t like exposing his abilities. Not to a bunch of townspeople who thought that he was just the beefed up deputy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go over the night that Brittney died,” Stiles said, pulling out his little notebook, flipping through to a blank page. He waited, pen poised over the paper, looking attentively at Connor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The scent of fear was coming off of him in waves, even if his calm disposition said otherwise. He folded his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. “What makes you say I would know anything about that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fact that you and Brittney had sex in a hotel room the night she died,” Stiles said, eyes hard focused on Connor. He stared intently, his eyes burrowing into the kids soul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looked freaked out, but he leaned back in his seat, attempting to act like nothing in particular was wrong. He glanced at Derek warily, his eyes scanning him before turning back to Stiles. He was clearly assessing Derek as the bigger threat, which was accurate. But the fact that he was ignoring the FBI agent in favor of the deputy was strange. It was odd. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how do you know that?” Connor asked, swallowing thickly. He raised an eyebrow at an attempt of being cocky, but it came off as scared more than anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because she swallowed the key to the hotel room,” Stiles said. He produced a photo of the key and slid it towards Connor, showing him the evidence of their tryst. “We went over there, and what would you know, it’s untouched from that night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Connor conceded, shaking his head slightly. “We were fucking on the regular, is that what you want to know? That we were having sex because she hated her boyfriend and knew he was fucking her best friend? That she was hooking up with that Cara chick who works at the gas station too? She liked getting laid,” Connor said, half shrugging. He glanced out the window, as if he wished he was outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You knew about her and Cara?” Stiles asked, scribbling something down in his notebook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knew? Of course I did. Brittney came in here late one night two or three months ago, complaining about how her boyfriend was cheating on her and how she was hooking up with some girl. I thought she was just ranting to any old person, but she cornered me during my shift, went down on me in the back room,” Connor said, his hands tightening into fists and releasing. He smelled nervous, smelled like someone regretting a lot of things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where did you go after? The night she died,” Stiles said, tapping his pen against the tabletop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor let out a breath of air, shrugging. “I offered to drive her home, but she declined. She stayed at the hotel room while I came here for work. I worked from midnight to 8am that day, ask the boss. I was checking in as he was leaving,” Connor said. He kept his eyes down, looking away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the truth. It was all truth, every word out of his vile mouth. Derek grabbed the pen from Stiles’ hand, scribbling down </span>
  <em>
    <span>truth</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the edge of the folder. Not once did Derek wish for someone to be lying before now, but here Connor was, almost bragging about the fact that he was hooking up with some highschooler who had issues. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’ll be all for today. Expect a follow up with the Sheriff,” Stiles said, gesturing for Derek to slide out of the booth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked out of the door without another question, the two of them rounding Derek’s truck to get back into the cab. It was moments like this that disgusted Derek, when they had to question someone as dirty as some pedophillic waiter. He was not particularly interested in Brittney’s sex life outside of how it got her from the hotel to the lake and murdered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Stiles said, tipping forward utnil his head hit the cab of the truck. He pounded his fists on the dash three times before straightening, his face refocusing back into his stock face, the one that was plain and normal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright?” Derek asked quietly, starting up the truck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Stiles asked, leaning back into his seat, his body twisted to face Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could be better,” Derek muttered, driving them back towards the police station. He was unsure if Stiles knew anything about his lawsuit against Kate, if his father had told him anything about filing the report. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, okay? About Kate,” Stiles said quietly, his hand reaching up to loosen his tie. “I know about what she did, because I was there when my dad brought her in. I was bringing him lunch at the station when they hauled her in, and whispers travel fast,” Stiles continued, covering his face with his hands, breathing deeply. He smelled ashamed and guilty, as if he was sorry for his intrusion into Derek’s life. It was because of this that Derek knew to immediately forgive him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not your fault. Stop smelling so guilty,” Derek said, running a hand over his hair. “It only makes me want to put away that douchebag even more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want to get a pizza or something?” Stiles asked, looking small and defeated in the cab of Derek’s truck. “I really want something greasy and watch a shitty movie and pretend like I’m not here for a murder investigation,” Stiles said, shuddering a little bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You cold?” Derek asked, immediately reaching for the heat controls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m shuddering at the fact that a teenager was murdered, and here I am thinking about myself,” Stiles said, straightening a little bit. “It’s not fucking fair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek reached over and grabbed Stiles’ arm, the zing of electricity moving up through his palm and up his arm. He wanted the two of them to have met under different circumstances, but fate had already drawn the lines. There was no closure to the idea that they could’ve been something entirely different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s called being human. It’s late, and with the way the case is unfolding, there is nothing that we can do today,” Derek said, shrugging. “Let’s get pizza and watch a shitty action movie at my house and pretend like we can rest, for one day.” He wanted to punch himself for saying that, for acting romantic when there was no pretense for it. Fuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only if we get meat lover’s,” Stiles said, sliding his tie all the way off of his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great choice,” Derek said, steering them towards the pizza place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a calmness when Derek unlocked his front door. He quickly walked over to his security panel and typed in the passcode, ensuring that the alarm didn’t go off. Not that he was particularly scared of intruders, because he had his own arsenal and protection, but he never wanted to be even sort of unsure about his security in his own home. He was not repeating mistakes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Set the pizza up on the island,” Derek said, gesturing towards the kitchen. The open floor plan of the house felt like a mistake when he had first bought it, but he was appreciating it now. He could watch Stiles as he took off his holster and hung it up in the hallway. He untucked his uniform shirt, stripping off his bulletproof vest and dropping it on the ground underneath his holster. He kicked his shoes off, glancing back at Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ eyes were watching him hungrily, his lust evident, even without his overwhelming scent. He cleared his throat as he set his tie down on the counter, stripping off his black suit jacket. “So we’re just getting comfortable here,” Stiles said, swallowing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want some sweats or something?” Derek asked, walking deeper into the house. He glanced back at Stiles, sort of surprised to see him still standing. It was as if he lost control of his usual FBI Agent persona once they had crossed the line between professional and personal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh. Yeah,” Stiles said, reaching up to rub his hand over his hair, causing the gelled pieces to stick up everywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be right back,” Derek said, walking up the stairs. He couldn’t help but smile to himself a little bit, thinking about Stiles in his sweats, covered in his scent. Not that it was okay for him to do that, or for him to assume that’s what Stiles also wanted. But, based off of scent alone, Stiles seemed to be a willing participant so far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek quickly changed, wearing only his undershirt and a pair of sweats with the faded logo of the police academy. He grabbed a smaller pair for Stiles, knowing he had a leaner frame and a smaller waist. He ignored the strange urges in the back of his mind that had unthinkable things planned. He was going to have a quiet night of pizza and a movie with Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Derek said, tossing the sweats towards Stiles. “Bathroom is the last room on the right down the hall,” Derek added, gesturing behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Stiles said, his hair sticking up all different ways, free of the gel that smoothed it down. He brushed past Derek on his way past, his shoulder brushing past gently. Derek tried to ignore the pleasure of such a simple thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He got out plates for the two of them and pulled out two sodas from the fridge. He would have offered beer under other circumstances, but he really didn’t get that much out of beer besides the taste, which he didn’t particularly like anyways. He’d much rather rot his teeth out with a Dr. Pepper than choke down a loaf of bread in a bottle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“These are really soft,” Stiles said, padding down the hallway in his socks, his dress pants and white button up in his arm. He deposited his clothes with his jacket, crossing his arms over his chest. Unbuttoned like this, only a soft white shirt and a pair of baggy sweats, he looked young. He looked like he was a college kid rather than being almost thirty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want to watch?” Derek asked, sitting heavily into his couch. He offered a small smile as Stiles sat next to him, sitting stiffly at first before the couch sucked him up into its cushions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A Fast and the Furious movie? I don’t care which,” Stiles said, leaning forward to pile a few pieces of pizza onto a plate, sitting back into the couch more comfortably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Derek queued up Tokyo Drift, which was arguably the best one of the franchise. If the small noise of content was anything to go by, it was also Stiles’ favorite. He grabbed his own pizza and sat bag, digging in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought it might be more awkward, the two of them hanging out like friends instead of like colleagues, but it wasn’t. It was nice to sit down and have pizza with someone who wasn’t Parrish. He loved hanging out with Parrish, but it could get hard with only one solid friend. Derek had not thought of himself as a people person until more recently, when he enjoyed hanging out or getting drinks with the others after work. He sort of wanted that feeling again, the feeling of a full house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At some point through the movie, Stiles shifted closer to Derek, his knee almost hitting Derek’s. When he got up to go to the bathroom, he sat down closer to him, their hips almost touching when he dropped back down onto the couch. His scent had changed slightly, from content to a sort of lustful wondering, of contemplation. He was thinking too hard for his own good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek glanced at him, almost wanting things to speed up. It had only been a few days since Stiles had arrived, but fuck. He couldn’t imagine walking into work without seeing Stiles’ stern gaze, or feel the intensity of him from across a table. He could fuck it up, but there was nothing more fucked than the fact that Stiles would return back to his normal work once the case was over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of thinking about the future, Derek reached over and put his hand on Stiles’ thigh. He was thinking selfishly about himself right here and now, but this felt right. It felt like he should take this leap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finally,” Stiles muttered, immediately changing position. He swung one leg over Derek’s, straddling him, arms reaching up to bracket Derek against the couch. “This okay?” Stiles muttered, pressing his forehead against Derek’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell yeah,” Derek replied, hands reaching up to grab Stiles’ waist, to feel his body move above him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles dipped down and kissed him, the barest of kisses. His lips teased for a moment, as if he was dipping a toe in the water. When he leaned back in, it was like the dam had broken, his lips pressing against Derek’s with a hurry and intensity that matched his general energy. Derek leaned up into the kiss, moaning into his mouth as his hands tightened on Stiles’ hips. He pushed Stiles’ undershirt up, hands aching to reach and touch skin, to feel that zing of something special. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When his hands touched bare skin, the same electric feeling happened, moving up Derek’s arm and continuing the longer he held on. He moaned, Stiles rocking his hips into him and also moaning. He could feel the way that Stiles’ hips stuttered forward when he made skin to skin contact, as if he was desperately trying to close the gap of space between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek held on tight to Stiles, rolling him sideways so that he laid back against the couch with Derek pressing into him from above. The new position changed the angle, and Derek could feel Stiles’ hardening cock pressing against his from where they lay, legs tangled and lips moving quickly. He sucked on Stiles’ bottom lip, liking the way that Stiles’ hands scratched down his back, raking up his shirt when they got to the bottom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Off,” Stiles muttered, breaking away from the kiss. He pawed at Derek’s shirt, whining when Derek started sucking a mark on his neck instead. “No marks, just get this off,” Stiles demanded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Derek muttered, sitting up to strip his shirt off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck me, you don’t have to be so hot,” Stiles said, more for himself than for Derek. His hands trailed down Derek’s front, feeling the smooth even skin as his hands trailed lower and lower. He thumbed Derek’s hips, grabbing onto him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too,” Derek muttered, pulling at the hem of Stiles’ shirt, desperate to see if the moles on his face and neck extended down to the rest of his body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was heartily rewarded when Stiles stripped his shirt off to have freckles on his shoulders and chest and moles littering themselves across his skin. Derek reached out to touch, his fingers barely touching each piece of skin. He wanted to worship him, wanted to map out his marks like constellations and create a new map of the night sky. Fuck, he wanted far more than that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what you see?” Stiles asked, bucking his hips up into Derek’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like it more if it would shut up,” Derek muttered, leaning down to press a kiss into Stiles’ throat, smelling the heat and lust of his scent pouring off of him. He wanted to leave his own scent behind, make sure others could see him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Make me,” Stiles said, gripping Derek’s shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek growled and pressed Stiles hard into the couch, kissing him firmly. He swallowed any moans, his hands grabbing at Stiles’ hips firmly. The buzzing electricity from their skin to skin contact hadn’t gone away, and felt like almost an afterthought with the direction that they were moving. He covered Stiles, pressing against him from head to toe, liking the way that they felt together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles started to grind upwards, their cocks brushing through fabric with every thrust and movement. Derek lifted his hips, reaching between them to shove down their pants. He freed his cock first, then pulled Stiles’ pants down quickly when his hips lifted up. Derek slid the two of them together, panting into Stiles’ neck as they thrusted together. Stiles’ hand grabbed both of them, stroking them together as they moved, their bodies sliding together in a way that had Derek growling from the back of his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He barely had a word of warning before he was coming, biting down into Stiles’ shoulder with blunt teeth. He could feel Stiles thrust against him one more time, coming with a loud moan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek collapsed down onto Stiles, not wanting to break skin to skin contact. He breathed into Stiles’ neck, his lips twitching into a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to be the death of me, Hale,” Stiles muttered, wrapping his arms around Derek’s back. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The cool mist of the morning made a stark contrast to the warm inside of the station, and there were a few glances as they walked in together. The glances might have been more about Stiles’ dark blue shirt (he had only previously been seen wearing white) than the fact that they had driven together. Or maybe they were watching the way that Derek and Stiles walked close to each other, only a breath apart.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey y'all! We're really getting into the thick of the investigation now. I hope y'all were paying attention to the first part of the story. </p>
<p>Thanks so much for the support! I really appreciate everyone reading this.</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Derek woke up slowly, the rising sun making his room brighter and brighter. He hated when he forgot to shut the curtains in his room, when the sunrise woke him instead of his alarm. It meant that he was losing sleep, even if it was just a few minutes. He yawned, stretching his arms up, when he felt the pressure on his body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing down, he was only slightly surprised to see Stiles asleep across his chest, their legs tangled together and his arm wrapped tightly around Derek’s waist. He was breathing deeply, his body twitching slightly as he adjusted his arms, pressing his face firmly into Derek’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek didn’t regret a single moment from the night before. He remembered the way they bypassed the movie and went straight to Derek’s bedroom, stripping out of their clothes and falling onto his bed in a sweaty heap. He liked the way that Stiles’ nails scratched down his chest and how his heels dug into his back as they fucked. He wanted to feel Stiles around him, wrapping him up in the exact way that made Derek’s skin hum. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could still feel the slight buzzing of their contact, something that Derek couldn’t explain outside of the fact that Stiles was a spark. He had never had sex with a spark, so maybe it was different, maybe there was some electric thing that he would have to deal with. It felt good, unlike the tazers that hunters tortured with. It felt like joy in a physical sensation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby,” Stiles muttered, shifting again. He was probably waking up, if the increase of his heart rate meant anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek stroked a hand down his back, trying to relish the feeling until they woke up. He had never had interpersonal relations with someone he worked with, but he didn’t think that sleeping with the FBI agent assigned to their murder investigation was necessarily a good idea. But he really wanted to do it again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Der,” Stiles muttered, his eyes fluttering open. He propped himself up on his elbow, sleepily looking up at Derek. “Hey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Derek whispered. He leaned in and kissed Stiles, only the barest of kisses, hoping that it would be okay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles kissed him back firmly, humming as he leaned into the kiss. His hands trailed up Derek’s arm, fingers dancing on his shoulder as he kissed him. When he pulled back, a smile was on his face, a small one that was almost questioning. “I feel like I should be regretting this but I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Derek growled, lowering his weight onto Stiles, pressing their hips together. He tipped his forehead against Stiles’, breathing in his scent and trying to envelope himself into it. His wolf wanted him to smush his face into Stiles’ skin, to breath him in and scent him. There was a deep ache in his chest that told him even now, he was still not close enough to Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We shouldn’t have, not in the middle of a murder investigation when everything is crazy. How could I be so selfish when we have a murder to solve? How can we think about ourselves when there is a murderer on the loose and a family in need of comfort and safety? How—” Stiles rambled, his fingers trailing idly on Derek’s back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek cut him off with a kiss, licking into his mouth. He wanted to taste Stiles, to feel him. He hiked one of Stiles’ legs around his waist, pressing their groins together as he deepened the kiss. He could feel Stiles’ hips stutter against his as they kissed, their mouths moving in tandem. Derek slid one hand up Stiles’ arm, tangling their fingers together as he pinned Stiles’ hand to the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Der,” Stiles gasped, breaking away from the kiss. “Fuck— keep going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Planning on it,” Derek growled, kissing along Stiles’ neck. He dipped to reach his collar bone, biting down on the skin playfully as he drove his hips forward, feeling Stiles’ hard length against him. He sucked on Stiles’ skin, liking the way that Stiles whined underneath him, his hips driving up as if searching for more contact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just fuck me already,” Stiles said, grabbing at Derek’s shoulder with his free arm. He purposely drove his hips up, making sure that Derek felt the way that he was hard and already leaking, so ready for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Derek said simply, looking up at Stiles. He leaned forward on his forearm, caging Stiles in as he slowly thrusted forward, feeling their cocks slide together. He licked at Stiles’ lips but didn’t kiss him, thrusting slowly and teasingly. He wanted to make this last, even if the urge to get them off was strong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you want to come in me? On me?” Stiles asked, pressing his chest up against Derek. When Derek growled at him, Stiles smiled devilishly. “C’mon, Der,” Stiles encouraged, thrusting up against him fast, feeling his cock twitch against him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was enough to tip Derek over the edge. He abandoned his slow plan, giving into the thrusts and wiggling of Stiles. He drove his hips down, setting a pace as their cocks rubbed together. He felt Stiles reach between them, hand gripping their cocks together. After he had started to jerk them off, Derek thrusted only a few more times before coming on Stiles’ stomach. He felt Stiles thrust a few more times before coming between them. He didn’t even complain when Derek dropped onto him, burying his face in Stiles’ neck and leaving the mess between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They laid there until Derek’s alarm went off. Neither moved for a moment, wanting to ignore the fact that it was time for work, and that they had more important things to do than lie in bed and fuck each other. Although, that didn’t seem like an entirely bad idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We gotta shower,” Derek said, rolling off of Stiles. “Mine’s big enough for both of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only if we actually shower,” Stiles said, sitting up. “I don’t have anything here. My car’s still at the station,” Stiles added, glancing around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I might have a spare shirt in the back that’ll fit you,” Derek said, trying to wrack his brain for a suit small enough for Stiles. He hadn’t been as lean as Stiles since he was a teenager, and he had gotten rid of his funeral suit shortly after the funeral. Cora didn’t have anything masculine enough for Stiles, even though they might be closer in size. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good enough for me,” Stiles said, crawling out of bed. “Lead the way, shower man,” Stiles said, raising an eyebrow at Derek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, you’re hot,” Derek muttered, eyes dragging over Stiles’ lean muscle, the way his torso looked as he stood their, come on his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only look hot because I smell like you,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek stepped around him, letting his fingers trail against Stiles’ waist as he passed. “I thought you were hot when you walked into the basement of the hospital.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t even know me,” Stiles said, trailing after him as he walked down the hall towards the bathroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t need to. I thought you were hot,” Derek said. He frowned at Stiles, sort of confused by this particular line of conversation. “You really think you don’t turn heads in that smart FBI suit of yours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not usually, but I guess I’m not really everyone’s type,” Stiles said, watching Derek turn on the shower. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek spun around, catching Stiles’ hand in his own. “You’re mine,” Derek mumbled, leaning in to kiss him softly, tipping his head to touch foreheads. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I cannot believe we are walking in together after driving in together,” Stiles muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He went with an old dark blue button up of Derek’s, the only one that fit him as well as his own shirt. He borrowed a pair of underwear and was forced to wear his suit pants and jacket again. Not that anyone was going to notice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Derek said, but there was no heat behind it. He wanted to wrap his fingers around Stiles’ wrist or sling his arm over his shoulders, but it was bad enough they were showing up together. The other deputies might start rumors, but Lydia and Parrish were going to know exactly what they had gotten up to. It was their specialty to be as annoying as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cool mist of the morning made a stark contrast to the warm inside of the station, and there were a few glances as they walked in together. The glances might have been more about Stiles’ dark blue shirt (he had only previously been seen wearing white) than the fact that they had driven together. Or maybe they were watching the way that Derek and Stiles walked close to each other, only a breath apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each step felt like it could be a mistake, but Derek was not pressed to care. It was hard to feel like a mistake was made when they had fallen into bed with each other, knowing the things they did. He tried to ignore the fact that they had only known each other for a handful of days, instead of the weeks that it felt like. Months, years, decades, if Derek was being more accurate, considering there was something deep in his bones that felt right when he touched Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked past Janice, both greeting her cheerfully, as if nothing was wrong. She said hello without a pause, even if she barely looked up from her breakfast and her smutty romance novel. She probably didn’t notice the smirk that they shared, or the fact that Derek let his hand brush against Stiles’ one last time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they walked into the conference room, Lydia and Parrish sitting there talking, it was like all the air in the room was sucked out for a moment. Parrish and Lydia both stared at them, and they stared back. Parrish raised his eyebrows in question, but it was clear by the expression on his face that he could tell they had sex. He could never pinpoint exactly why he knew, only that he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great. You had sex. Can we finish this case?” Lydia asked, pursing her lips. She looked as if she was attempting to hold back a smile. She flicked through pages with her fingers, her long nails scraping against the paper in a satisfying sound. It seemed as if that was the only words about Stiles and Derek that were going to be shared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything new?” Stiles asked, sitting down at the table, pretending as if nothing had changed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek used to be able to pretend, to hide away his pain and forget that anything had ever happened. He stopped trying that years ago because there was no point. With Cora in his life, there was sort of no reason to hide his feelings anymore. They were open with each other, as much as a brother and sister could be who had their hearts ripped out of their chests at a young age. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing that I can tell. I swabbed the cuts on Brittney’s back in hopes that the DNA was going to turn back something new, but there wasn’t enough to be conclusive,” Lydia said, tapping her fingers along the paper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the hair from her hairband?” Stiles asked, pulling out his notebook to write in. He grabbed a doughnut from the box on the table, biting into it as he looked expectantly at Lydia. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is positive DNA markings but no match. It’s likely that the hair belongs to the Alpha that killed her, but there’s nothing that would prove that until we had a matching DNA sample,” Lydia said, shaking her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you cross reference the other files from the past cases? All of them were left unsolved. I’ve bounced from town to town trying to track this killer,” Stiles said. He flipped back in his notebook, as if referencing older pages for information. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matches some of the other DNA evidence, but we can’t make a match to a person because they don’t exist in the database,” Lydia said. She looked stumped, as if her end of the case was suddenly finished, the scientific part completed now that she had done her work. She looked as if it was out of her hands now, which was not a good thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some?” Derek asked, sitting next to Stiles. He accepted the doughnut that Stiles passed him, even if he had no plans on eating it. They had breakfast before they left his house, even if Stiles’ doughnut eating habits didn’t show it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems to be at least three total DNA profiles, but they are all non-matches,” Lydia said, flipping through the file. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was something in the back of Derek’s brain, an old memory perhaps, that was telling him not to forget this fact. Three DNA profiles. Alpha killer. Those two things didn’t match up. Those things would never match up, not with an Alpha being so territorial. But why leave clues for an Alpha when it was an entire pack doing serial murdering? What was the letter P doing in association with the letters spelling Alpha?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s more than one killer then,” Derek said, glancing down at his hands. Something at the back of his mind, or rather the tip of his tongue, was pressing forward but unsaid. He could feel the memory of a story, or the memory of an old tale, lingering at the back of his mind. He couldn’t help but feel like multiple DNA’s attributed to something else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Parrish asked, his eyes lighting up. He knew Derek better than most, so he could likely see the anguish and confusion on Derek’s face, even when he schooled his face to be completely and utterly blank. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek shook his head. “I’ll be right back,” he said, standing and ducking out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel things pressing in as he walked down the hallway, memories and voices in his head that sounded jumbled. His mother, or maybe his father, or maybe even uncle Peter, telling a story. Something about many Alphas, or the destruction of one Alpha. He had tried to push down any and all memories of his family as punishment, and now he was needing those memories and they were refusing to surface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ducked into the bathroom, dialling Cora. He tapped his fingers against the sink, avoiding looking at his face in the mirror as the phone rang. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello? Der?” Cora answered, sounding confused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Derek greeted, unsure of how to phrase his question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I’m coming back for Christmas in a few days,” Cora said, sounding confused. “Did you not get my text from earlier?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t, actually. He didn’t really check his phone this morning. He was sort of occupied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t checked. Actually, Cora, I have a question,” Derek said, the words he wanted to say still jumbling inside of his brain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go for it,” Cora said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you remember any stories of mom’s? Or maybe dad’s or Peter’s? Stories involving multiple Alphas, or maybe a vengeful Alpha who killed? I’ve got this case at work and we’re pretty sure it’s an Alpha who is killing,” Derek said, squinting his eyes in an attempt to concentrate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cora hummed over the phone, making sure that Derek knew she was on the line but still thinking. She made a few sounds, as if starting to speak but not continuing her words. “Alpha pack? Are you talking about that old legend?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Derek said, his eyes snapping open. “A pack of Alphas. They killed to show their power, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Peter’s old story. He always used to say that they would rampage through towns and kill people, disposing of their bodies with whatever mark they found fit to show their strength. If they met an Alpha who challenged them, they were given two options: join the pack by killing their Betas, or be destroyed by the Alphas themselves,” Cora said, her words tumbling over themselves, as if remembering the story for the first time as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That has to be it, Cor. That has to be what’s happening. It’s at least 5 murdered girls in the state, and they had these letters shoved into their ears that spell Alpha. But there’s an extra P, which we didn’t understand what it meant, but they must be spelling Alpha pack with the letters,” Derek rushed, his brain clicking pieces of evidence together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to go tell the others. Thanks,” Derek said, knowing that they had likely solved at least one aspect of the mystery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your welcome, Sherlock,” Cora teased, hanging up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek tucked his phone back into his pocket, walking confidently back towards the conference room. He could hear them discussing something, but he pushed back into the room anyways, drawing their attention. “I know what did it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Explaining the Alpha Pack theory was much less exciting than Derek’s own realization of it. The concrete theory did nothing for the fact that they had no concrete evidence to tie to an actual person. They could sit and speculate about it all day, but if they didn’t know the members of the Alpha Pack, there was no way of tracking them or actually bringing justice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That sort of deflated Derek’s excitement pretty quickly. Here he was, thinking that he had solved it, and yet they were still so far. Derek couldn’t even guess at who the Alpha’s were, because he was so distanced from the werewolf world at this point. His bubble included him and Cora and Parrish, and now apparently Lydia and Stiles. Outside of that, he didn’t know any other creature or magic user that could be of any help. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except for maybe Dora, who lived behind the casino. She had an Alpha, and while they kept separate, she could offer some sort of information to him. Maybe a speculation or a hearty guess. It was better than stalling out the investigation and halting it entirely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dora?” Parrish asked, tilting his head. “The casino is out near the lake, so she might actually know something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s why we should visit her, see what she knows,” Derek said, rapping his knuckles on the table top. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And she’s a werewolf?” Stiles asked, jotting something down in his notebook. “Are you two pack?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Derek said simply. That was a far better answer than </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t have a pack and haven’t since my parents died and the Alpha magic was used to save my sister</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That was a story for an entirely different time, one where they weren’t investigating a murder. Maybe Stiles would get to hear that story sometime. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, let’s go,” Stiles said, standing. He tucked his notebook back into his pocket, smoothing down his jacket. He glanced down at Parrish and Lydia, who were looking at each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two of them were having an entire conversation with their eyes, something that Derek never quite understood before. He could see the subtle changes in their expressions, the way that their eyes shifted to indicate whatever they were talking about. Both of their heart rates and scents stayed steady, which meant that they weren’t planning anything nefarious. Unless they were extremely good with control. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lydia’s going to head back to my place to do her own work, and I’m going to stay here to cover the past week’s reports and activity with the other deputies. Why don’t you two go, and call me when you hear anything,” Parrish said, nodding at the two of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were clearly doing this because they thought Stiles and Derek wanted alone time. Which wasn’t wrong, but honestly wasn’t what was on Derek’s mind, not with the current revelations in the case. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had much more important things to think about than the slope of Stiles’ neck or the way his hands looked when he wrote in his notebook. They had the lore of the Alpha Pack to deal with, and now questioning Dora to see what she knew. Derek’s mind was whirling with the idea that the Alpha Pack was responsible for six murders across the state, not with the idea of Stiles staying forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go then,” Stiles said, turning towards Derek. He followed him out of the conference room and out to the parking lot, keeping close behind him but not saying anything. It was only when they were alone, out in the parking lot, that Stiles let out a breath, as if he was holding one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Derek asked, unlocking his car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It feels closer than ever, but so far. And all Parrish and Lydia can think about is setting us up. Just feels wrong,” Stiles said, hopping into the cab of Derek’s truck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to solve this,” Derek said, shutting his door behind him. “I want to bring justice to Brittney’s family, and to all of the victims families.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d make a good FBI agent,” Stiles said, leaning back in his seat. “With a mind like that,” Stiles added. He glanced out the window at the town as Derek drove, his eyes watching the buildings pass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’d rather stay here,” Derek said, looking out at the gloomy morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna miss this place,” Stiles muttered, tipping his head against the window. “And I was just getting used to being here. Off to some other city, to some other case. It’s never ending.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was one thing that Derek truly did not want to think about. The fact that Stiles, when this case was over, was going to report back to the Portland field office, and then be shipped off to another town for another case. The sooner they solved it, the sooner Stiles was going to leave again. Even though solving it was a good thing for the families, there was a nagging sense of dread in the back of Derek’s mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truck was silent except for the soft humming of the radio as they drove out towards the casino. Derek sort of liked the quiet, liked the fact that he could sit in silence with Stiles and not feel awkward about it. Or maybe, he was too trapped up in his own thoughts and thoughts about the case to be bothered about any awkward silences considering everything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was sort of getting used to having Stiles around, to riding with him and having breakfast with him and maybe even waking up to him. That idea felt comfortable in his brain, and when he really thought about it, the thought of Stiles staying felt safe. His wolf felt safe at the thought of Stiles staying in proximity, of Stiles even joining their ragtag pack that they had going in Florence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drive out to the casino, absorbed with Derek’s thoughts, went quicker than anticipated. Dora lived out in a small, rickety house in sight of the casino, but she always kept to herself. She came into town once a week for groceries or whatever else she needed and then disappeared back into her house and her land. It was not uncommon for her to be holed up for an indeterminate amount of time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek tried to wrack his brain for the last time he smelled her around town. He honestly couldn’t remember. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything I should know about her?” Stiles asked as they parked at the base of her drive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Werewolf, mid forties, has an Alpha up the coast in Seaside. She moved down here after her mate died a few years ago, and has sort of been reclusive. Her mate died of mistletoe poisoning after eating some at a bake sale. It was tragic for her,” Derek said, trying to rattle off all that he knew of her. “She’s nice, quiet, had no interest in getting to know Parrish or I, but we talk whenever we run into each other. It's a solidarity thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles nodded. He hopped out of the car, barely waiting for Derek before striding purposefully towards the front door. He only glanced behind him once to ensure that Derek was following before marching up, looking very much like the FBI agent he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knocked three times, loud hard raps. They echoed through the landscape, the sound bouncing off of the trees that surrounded her place. Her small garden patch out front looked unattended, weeds starting to sprout between the covered patches of plants. Her car had a dusting of pine needles on top of it, indicating that she hadn’t moved it in a while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Derek concentrated, he could smell something sour, almost rotten. He wondered if she had let some of her plants go bad when he caught a whiff of something else, of another Alpha. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Derek said, pulling on his arm. “Stay here while I check something,” Derek commanded, glancing around them. The scent of Alpha was weak, as if the wind had washed it away over the last day or so. Derek rounded the house, following the scent until it got stronger and stronger. The back door had a much stronger scent, only old by a few hours or so. Instead of waiting, Derek kicked in the back door, ignoring the shout of surprise from Stiles on the other side of the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside, the scent of rotting was much stronger, almost cloying of Derek’s senses. He could smell both the rotting and the Alpha scent, which he now realized was several Alphas all at once. It wasn’t Dora’s Alpha, it was the Alpha Pack’s scent. They clearly spent time in proximity to have their scents amalgamate, but there was a distinctness in the house, the Alphas sitting in different areas or something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek followed the rotting scent towards the garage door, steadying himself with a breath before pushing it open. Inside was the worst case scenario, the only scenario that Derek didn’t want to face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside was the dead body of Dora, her throat ripped out. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You okay?” Derek asked, pushing his truck to drive faster down the highway. </p><p>“I might pass out. Don’t freak,” Stiles said, his head lolling towards Derek. He half smiled, even with his eyes closed, his fingers tightening subtly around Derek’s wrist. </p><p>He knew the moment Stiles passed out based on the shift in his heart beat and the way that his hand went slack against his wrist. That surely couldn’t be good.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WOW this chapter is a beast. I've been fighting with it for the past month, and it's finally here. This one is really long (14k words!) and not necessarily intentionally, but I really wanted a certain tone to be set for the final chapter, so I had to get us to that point. </p><p>I am so sorry that it took me like a month to update, but this chapter had a lot of things happening. Plus I graduated college since the last time that we talked, so I actually accomplished a lot. </p><p>Enjoy! Let me know what y'all think after this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Stiles rushed into the house from the front door, stopping just short behind Derek’s shoulder, looking up and over him. When he saw the body laying there, he shrunk back immediately, getting out his phone as he went. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek was almost in a trance looking at the body, his eyes trying to search out anything that could be a clue to exactly what had transpired. He knew he was going to have to call her Alpha to come collect her and give her a proper burial. He knew he was going to have to explain why he kicked in the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, the Alphas were going to know that he was inside. They were going to know that he was here, and they were going to come after him. Or they were going to spook and leave town. Either way, those options were not conducive to catching them as murderers, but creating more problems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even really understand why they had stuck around this long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Parrish? Yeah it’s Stiles. Dora’s dead,” Stiles said behind him, his voice quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles tapped on his shoulder, handing him the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek, you alright?” Parrish asked when Derek held the phone up to his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Alpha’s scent is still strong here. Only a few hours cold. I think they’re using her house to hide out,” Derek said succinctly, trying not to let any emotion bleed into his voice. He closed his eyes against the sight of Dora laying there, his nose still betraying him with the heavy scent. “I think they’ll come back, but if they smell me here—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles pulled the phone out of his hands, holding it to his ear. “I’m going to clear out the scent and we’re going to set a trap for the Alpha’s here. I think it’s our only option.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of eavesdropping on Stiles’ conversation, Derek backed out of the garage, only opening his eyes when he was sure he wouldn’t see Dora laying there again. He tried not to think about the fact that she had been laying there for a while, probably since before Brittney had been murdered. She looked gross and sickly, her skin deathly pale and blotchy looking. He couldn’t even imagine her bleeding out there, no one coming to check on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Der, we gotta go,” Stiles said, pulling on his arm. “Go wait in the car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek did as he was told, trying not to think about the fact that they had busted in both the front and the back door, meaning that there was evidence that they had broken in. It didn’t matter that Stiles could clear out their scent, whatever that meant, because there was still irrefutable physical damage to the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat in the drivers side, watching through the windows as Stiles waved his arms, a light blue energy coming off of him. He watched as Stiles repaired the front door, making it appear as if nothing had happened. He watched as Stiles waved his arms about, clearing the air from their scents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t realized that Stiles had real magic, even though that’s exactly what Stiles had told him when he said he was a Spark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” Derek asked, once Stiles had climbed back into the cab. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magic. Making sure that they won’t be able to tell that we were here at all,” Stiles said, shrugging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can just do that?” Derek asked incredulously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles yawned, his head tilting back against the seat. “Yeah. Can we go back to the station? I’m gonna need at least three doughnuts and a power nap. I really do not want a magic hangover.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without question, Derek drove them back towards town. Stiles waved his hand as they left, the tire marks in the road disappearing with the truck. The fact that even now, as Stiles was half asleep, he was still using his magic to ensure that they were in the clear. He was sort of a really good guy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not freaking out,” Derek said, as if that was something that needed to be said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Stiles said tiredly, his eyes sliding shut. He sleepily pulled at his tie, loosening it from its tightness around his neck. “Don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek wasn’t worried. He was scared, nervous, even feeling unsure. But, he wasn’t necessarily worried. There was a quiet ache in his chest at the implications of knowing the Alpha’s hideout, but it was more like the knowledge that his actions and choices affected those in the future. What Derek did next, what they all did next, would affect whether or not girls got murdered. There was a scared feeling in his chest, knowing the pressure on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only worried about you,” Derek said under his breath, glancing over at Stiles. He looked pale, and if he knew anything about sparks at all, then all that magic was draining. He shouldn’t have been able to do anywhere near that much, let alone half of that. It was difficult to wrap his mind around, that Stiles would go that far to protect them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about me, Der. I’ll be okay,” Stiles muttered, reaching blindly to grab at Derek’s arm. His hands wrapped around Derek’s wrist, his cold fingers still sending electricity up his arm. He could feel Stiles’ pulse, feel how tired he was through the touch alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was something to take note of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Derek asked, pushing his truck to drive faster down the highway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might pass out. Don’t freak,” Stiles said, his head lolling towards Derek. He half smiled, even with his eyes closed, his fingers tightening subtly around Derek’s wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew the moment Stiles passed out based on the shift in his heart beat and the way that his hand went slack against his wrist. That surely couldn’t be good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Lydia still here?” Derek asked, glancing back through the front windows towards where Stiles was passed out in the cab of his truck. He looked back towards Janice, raising his eyebrow at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, she left a half hour ago. Sheriff is still in the conference room,” Janice said, popping her gum loudly. “Where did Agent Stilinski go?” Janice asked, leaning forward as if expecting to see Stiles walk in besides him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not feeling well, so I have to take him home. I was hoping Lydia could, but I’ll go talk to Parrish,” Derek said, rapping his knuckles on her desk. He headed down the hallway, his brain half on Stiles in his truck and half on the investigation. It was hard, not knowing what was going to happen. Even now, it was hard to leave Stiles in the truck unprotected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I was just going to call you,” Parrish said, standing as Derek walked in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles is passed out in the cab of my truck,” Derek blurted, before Parrish could say anything else. “He used magic, and passed out, Jordan—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parrish walked forward and grabbed his shoulders, immediately pulling his attention to him. “Stop acting stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek merely glared at Parrish, his shoulders tensing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take him home and let him sleep it off. If he doesn’t wake up by dinnertime, then call Lydia and have her check him out. When Lyds gets magically exhausted she just needs to sleep it off. It’s no big deal,” Parrish said, glancing around Derek behind him. “I’ll call you later about the case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure. Take care of him,” Parrish said, smiling in an attempt to be supportive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This felt wrong, in light of the case. But it felt so right for Derek. He could feel his wolf preening at the thought of taking care of Stiles, of making sure he was okay. He had not felt like this about anyone (even with his limited dating experience), and couldn’t help but give into the urges to take care of his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Derek said, turning and walking back down the hallway. He shook his head, as if trying to clear off the thoughts that were in his brain. He needed to focus, to think about the case. The longer he was with Stiles, the more his brain felt like a jumbled mess. The harder it got to separate his wolf urges from his own human thoughts. He wanted to silence everything, to get perspective, but it was hard with the proximity to the case and to Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even glance at Janice as he walked past, heading back out to his truck. In the gloomy day, the front of his cab was dark, dark enough not to disturb Stiles as he slept. He wanted to reach over and smooth a hand over Stiles’ hair, maybe soothe him, but that was wrong. He hadn’t earned the right to do that yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drove back to his house, and after checking to make sure that no one was looking, carried Stiles into his house. He knew the reasons behind carrying an unconscious Stiles, but he knew that others would not view his actions the same. He had to preserve at least some of his reputation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laid Stiles down on his couch, making sure to adjust him until he was comfortable. He watched him for a moment, trying to control his heartbeat and focus on his breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek hadn’t needed to meditate since the fire, when his wolf was all twisted up with grief. And yet, here he was, standing above Stiles and having his wolf thrash under his skin, his brain clouded with thoughts that weren’t entirely his own. He wanted to hug Stiles, protect him, make sure that he was alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of doing anything stupid or rash, or giving into his wolf, Derek walked up to his bedroom, laying down on his bed. He set a timer for an hour and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing in an attempt to ground himself. He was going to be better about this. He couldn’t freak out about every little thing, or act rashly. He needed to refocus his thoughts, focus on the case at hand and the fact that within the next few days they were going to trap and kill the Alphas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek woke up to his phone ringing, his eyes blurry as he reached over to his nightstand to grab his phone. He glanced at the caller ID before answering, closing his eyes as he held his phone up to his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Jordan,” Derek said quietly, rubbing his face with his free hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go over that case now,” Parrish said, his voice serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek sat up blearily, feeling sort of groggy and confused by his midday nap. He hated doing this, but he needed it. He needed the mental reset, the break from going and going on the case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly and patiently, Derek detailed everything that he could about Dora’s place, from the scents he smelled to the visuals, to Stiles using his magic. He said things calmly and patiently, even when his insides twisted and turned at the memory of Dora laying there, or the thick and cloying scent of death. He squeezed his free hand tight as he spoke, trying hard not to interject his own thoughts or feelings into the update. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s when Stiles called me, I’d guess,” Parrish said, sounding contemplative. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants to set a trap, see if we can’t ambush them there,” Derek said, standing. He started down the hallway and down the stairs, keeping an ear out for Stiles. He could still hear the steady beat of his heart, but he was starting to hear muffled breathing sounds and noises, as if Stiles was awakening from his unconscious state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a bad idea. We’d need all the firepower for that, if it’s more than one Alpha,” Parrish said. He was likely making a face on the other end, not pleased at this turn of events. With multiple Alphas, it would be harder to trap a single one or split them apart effectively. There were only four of them who knew anything about the supernatural world, and the other person they’d call upon is dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could wait until Cora gets back,” Derek said quietly. Not that he wanted to involve her, but he knew that she would be effective. “She’s due back in a few days anyways, I can ask her to come back early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to force you to ask her,” Parrish said. He seemed reluctant, even though her presence might even up the numbers a little more. She would be invaluable in the long run, considering that they only had one werewolf on their side currently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call her when we hang up, see if she’s willing to come,” Derek said. He already knew she would say yes immediately. She had the same sense of instilled justice that he had in him. It was why she was studying to become a lawyer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s plan tomorrow morning,” Parrish said, voice quiet. “I’ll talk to Lydia about lethal attacks tonight and we can work out a plan tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek scratched his neck, standing at the top of his stairs. “Are we ready for this?” He certainly didn’t feel ready. He couldn’t help but have his heart ache at the lives lost, but his mind paused at the fact that they had never done anything like this before. It was already hard enough investigating this murder, pushing themselves to solve piece by piece, but the conclusion was here much sooner than anyone could have anticipated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to be ready. We have to give justice to these girls,” Parrish said firmly. </span>
</p><p> <span>“Right. See you tomorrow,” Derek said, hanging up his phone. </span></p><p>
  <span>He walked down the stairs, tucking his phone into his pocket. He glanced at Stiles, who was now tossing and turning in his slumber, before turning to his own kitchen. He started hot water for some pasta, hoping that it would be a good enough dinner for him and Stiles. He could see the sun slipping away in the sky, the darkness seeping into his house gradually. The chill of the night was already starting to set in, and there was a stiff ocean breeze blowing the trees outside his window. </span>
</p><p> <span>Derek reluctantly took out his phone and called Cora, holding the phone up to his ear as he watched the water in the pot. It rang a few times before picking up, Cora answering with an annoyed “hello”. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Cor, I kind of have a favor to ask of you,” Derek said, squeezing his eyes shut. </span>
</p><p> <span>“Oh no.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“We have a pack of Alphas to kill,” Derek whispered, putting a hand on the counter to steady himself. “We could use the backup.”</span>
</p><p> <span>Cora was quiet on the other end of the line, only the sound of her breathing coming through. “I’ll drive down tonight.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” Derek said, trying to be supportive of her making her own decisions. </span>
</p><p> <span>“I have to. You can fill me in on the case when I get into town,” Cora said, hanging up promptly. </span></p><p>
  <span>To anyone else, that would signal a negative and angry end to a call. For Derek and Cora, that was fairly accurate to their own relationship with phone calls. They were not particularly about pleasantries, and they were certainly not about saying goodbye mushily every time they spoke.  Neither wanted to jinx themselves somehow, not with their past. </span>
</p><p> <span>Derek tried not to let the idea of her fighting Alphas weigh too heavily on his mind as he prepared dinner. </span></p><p>
  <span>He methodically cut vegetables to add to a jarred pasta sauce, not feeling like making something entirely from scratch. He cooked the noodles, draining them and adding them to the sauce, letting it all saute together for a moment. He wished he had some bread, or even a good wine to pair with it, but he didn’t have either. That’s what happens when he ignores grocery shopping for the case they’re on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he started to plate his own, he heard the quiet footsteps of Stiles, standing and walking into the kitchen. Stiles scrubbed at his face, looking as if a big rig had run him over. He had dark circles under his eyes and a distinctly tired slope to his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hungry?” Derek asked, gesturing towards the food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Starving,” Stiles muttered, leaning hard against the counter. “How long was I out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Only two hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not bad,” Stiles said, his eyes sliding shut. “Fuck, we need to plan and organize and formulate how the hell we’re going to take on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pack </span>
  </em>
  <span>of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alphas</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Stiles rambled, propping his face in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Parrish said we’ll figure it out in the morning,” Derek said, turning to open the fridge. He couldn’t help but glance back at Stiles, eyes watching him carefully, trying to remember how soft and sweet he looked, even through the stress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed out two sodas, knowing that Stiles likely wanted the sugar. “Want to watch some tv?” Derek asked, nudging Stiles with his elbow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Stiles picked up his own plate, wordlessly following Derek as he walked into the living room. He seemed to be sort of in a trance, eyes barely open as he slumped into the couch, balancing his plate on his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck I’m so tired,” Stiles said, limply holding up his fork. “Why did I have to pass out around you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you think I’d care? You saved us. How could I not be grateful?” Derek said, glancing over at Stiles as he clicked through tv channels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m acting like such an idiot. And I like you,” Stiles mumbled. He seemingly sunk deeper into the cushions, eating his food steadily as he watched the tv screen. He didn’t even move positions when Derek finally settled on some house remodeling show, only making a grunt of satisfaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek ate his food, but if you had asked, he wouldn’t have remembered a single thing that appeared on the tv screen. He was too focused on the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat, loud in his ears, and the way that his breaths were deep and even, showing relaxation. He seemed content, if any marker that Derek could go by was correct. He appeared to be even happy that he was there, sitting on Derek’s couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was starting to form some sort of complex with the way that Stiles was around him all the time. He tried not to think about the fact that Stiles would eventually have to leave and return to his own job, the one that didn’t involve driving around Florence in the passenger seat of Derek’s truck. He had carved a space in Derek’s life, and the very fact that he had done that so quickly was scary to Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t let people in. Not very often, and not in a romantic sense. He had kept most of his relationships at arms distance until the other person broke it off, and even then Derek would rarely initiate things. He hadn’t dated since he moved to Florence, really. He was not exactly known for letting people in or letting his wolf get comfortable with anyone. He had done both with Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might fall asleep,” Stiles mumbled, setting his plate on the coffee table. “Is there somewhere better than the couch to doze off?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek only had his room and the guest room, which was saved for Cora. He thought for a moment before diving even deeper, knowing it was probably not the right thing in the long term. “You can sleep in my bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, sitting up quickly. “Where are you going to sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the couch. I’ll give you some rest,” Derek said, as if that answer was obvious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles pulled himself up only to straddle Derek and sit in his lap. He tucked his face against Derek’s neck, rubbing his cheek against him. He was scenting him, in only a way that someone who was around werewolves would know. “Come join me. Don’t sleep on the couch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Stiles pliant above him, he couldn’t imagine saying no. Not when he had him scenting him and blatantly asking him to stay. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Stiles said, pulling back. “Fuck you’re hot,” Stiles muttered, leaning into to kiss Derek. He kissed him for a few moments, but his mouth was slow moving and soft. This was a kiss of contentment rather than heating up to something. Derek wanted to hold Stiles close, kiss him lazily forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Derek mumbled as Stiles pulled back, hands tightening slightly around Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Der, I’m going to fall asleep. If I was any more awake, we’d be naked,” Stiles said, sliding off of his lap. He ran a hand over Derek’s head fondly before walking out of the room, his feet plodding on every step as he walked upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek listened until he was laying in bed, the sheets rustling as he turned. Only a few minutes later, he was softly snoring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so gone on Stiles. He was so unbelievably gone on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of dwelling on the fact that he had gotten himself into a romantic entanglement, he cleaned up their plates from dinner and put away the leftovers. Checking the time, Cora would be there soon enough, so he got some water and sat on the couch again, staring blankly at the tv. He couldn’t concentrate, not when he could hear Stiles’ steady heartbeat and smell his scent all throughout the house. He wanted to go upstairs and cuddle in with him, not wait up for his sister to arrive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like forever before she was knocking on the door, her knuckles rapping twice shortly. When he opened the door to her, she smiled, eyes kind. When the scent of the house hit her, the smile dropped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have stayed away if I knew you had someone here,” Cora said, shifting her weight. She shouldered her bag more firmly, glancing back out to her car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a big deal, come in,” Derek said, opening the door wider for her. “You can put your stuff down in your room,” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So a romantic entanglement, not just someone from work,” Cora muttered, heading back into the house. She dropped her stuff in the back room, the one that she had decorated as the “guest room”. It wasn’t really used as a guest room often, because she was the only person who ever stayed over before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek scrubbed a hand over his face, not really prepared for this conversation with her. It wasn’t like he was avoiding it, but he really and truly did not want to get into his own personal stupidity with his sister tonight. He wanted to pretend like being with Stiles was a good thing, like it was long term, or it was going to last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the boy toy,” Cora asked, raising her eyebrow at Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Stiles,” Derek said, shrugging, trying to pass it off as nonchalant. “He’s the FBI agent assigned to the case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no,” Cora said softly, stepping up closer to Derek. “You slept with him? And he’s an FBI agent, not tied down to anything, not planning on getting into a relationship with a small town police officer,” Cora said, assuming the worst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t talked about that yet,” Derek said defensively, as if what she said wasn’t the absolute and whole truth. It was the truth that Derek didn’t particularly feel like admitting to himself yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek—” Cora started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s not,” Derek said quickly, cutting her off. “We have a pack of Alphas to kill and I really don’t want to think about the ramifications of Stiles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ramifications</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Cora mocked quietly, shaking her head. “Fine, I’ll respect that. But only because you’re using a two dollar word,” Cora added, reaching over and pinching his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever Cora was at school, he forgot that she was like this. Kind. Gentle. Teasing even when she knew she shouldn’t. It was so easy to pretend to be alone, to pretend like this was the only way to live. He forgot sometimes that she was also experiencing those things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He swore she didn’t smell like that the last time he saw her. It wasn’t a mix of things at her college, this was something different. Someone different.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna tell me about your masters project or what?” Derek asked, gesturing towards the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, smiling at him “I’ll leave you with loverboy. We have a lot of shit to do in the morning,” Cora said, smiling. She walked back down the hallway, leaving him in his living room, standing there. He loved that she could be understanding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of following her, he walked up to his room, trying to keep his footsteps light and quiet even on the creaking floors. When he glanced into his room, Stiles was sprawled out in the bed, but still managing to leave a space for Derek. He was wearing a pair of Derek’s pajama bottoms and no top, his torso pale and defined in the low light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bedbehind Stiles, careful not to touch him or jostle him too much. He pushed his arm away so he would have adequate sleeping space, but even the gentle motion had Stiles rolling over, making soft noises in his sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe,” Stiles muttered, hand reaching out as if searching for Derek. When he hit Derek’s shoulder, he pulled on it gently, as if pulling him closer. Derek slid closer to him, their faces only inches from each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to sleep,” Derek whispered gently, letting his hand rest on Stiles’ hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles more fully pulled himself against Derek, his face pressed into the crook of his neck. “Warm,” Stiles hummed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, Stiles went back to sleep, his body pressed tight against Derek’s. Even with the soft snoring of Stiles and the need to press closer, Derek somehow fell asleep too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon. When he rolled over, searching for Stiles, he felt an empty bed, with Stiles’ spot cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat up quickly, glancing around as if making sure that nothing bad had happened to him in the night. He could see Stiles’ suit draped over the end of the bed, which meant that he was awake and not fully dressed. When he glanced around, his own clothes were cleaned up into the hamper by the door, which was a nice surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He listened hard, hearing the soft laugh of Stiles’ from the kitchen. In response, he heard Cora talking, saying something just low enough that Derek couldn’t fully make out the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was not exactly how he wanted Cora and Stiles to meet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek got up quickly and pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, not bothering to look at himself before he headed downstairs. He knew his hair probably looked like a mess or that he looked like he just woke up, but leaving Cora and Stiles together did not seem like a very good idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Derek said, walking into the kitchen. He stood just inside the doorway, glancing between where Stiles was cooking at the stove and Cora was sitting on a barstool pulled up to the counter bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Cora teased, smirking over her coffee cup. “Stilinski decided to make us some breakfast before we fight today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles silently stirred the scrambled eggs, only glancing at Derek once, nervously. He set the spatula down, turning to face him more fully. “Someone decided to get ready this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teasing was a little much for Derek’s brain, but he figured he’d play into it. Cora was always the one to deflect with jokes and teasing while Derek was always more serious, being stern and strict to the end. If Stiles was going to play into the jokes, Derek was going to follow his cues. He was not going to be the stick in the mud, bringing down the mood of everything on the dawn of their theoretical battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone didn’t,” Derek teased, stepping towards Stiles. He gestured towards what he was wearing, which was Derek’s pajama pants and one of Derek’s loose, worn shirts. This one said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Beacon Hills Basketball</span>
  </em>
  <span> on it, which meant it must have been the shirt he was wearing the day of the fire. Huh. How he picked that out was wild. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instinctually, Derek reached out and slid his hand underneath Stiles’ shirt, letting his palm lay flat against his waist. He felt that same comforting buzz, the one he always felt with Stiles. He felt more grounded, more prepared this way. He wished he could feel this way all the time, instead of only now, only with Stiles. He wished he could feel this whole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Avert your eyes, Cor,” Stiles said, flailing one hand at Cora. He turned and hauled Derek into a kiss, pressing his mouth to Derek’s for only a few passionate moments. He kissed him like he wanted so much more but was holding back. It was like he was kissing with hesitation. It was a kiss meant to tease at more, hint at what could come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two already smell like each other, so there’s nothing that is a real secret,” Cora said, but her hand still came up to shield her eyes. Even after they split apart, she kept her hand in front of her eyes, as if trying to ensure that she wouldn’t see anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the clear,” Derek muttered, slipping out of Stiles’ personal space. He reluctantly took his hand back so that he could pour himself a cup of coffee. Not that it really did much, but it was out of habit rather than necessity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really would like to not go blind before we have to go kill some werewolves,” Cora said, shaking her head. “And I’d like breakfast, if you wouldn’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you apologize for that time in fourth grade when you pushed me off the seesaw,” Stiles said, gesturing towards her with a spatula. He was scooping eggs and bacon onto plates for them, dividing them up equally. Which was par for the course, if he was going to be using magic in any capacity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, I’m sorry you were a loser then. That fact is tempered by the fact that you’re not really a loser now,” Cora said, gesturing towards the plate. “Does that mean I get to eat now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles narrowed his eyes at her, as if really considering whether or not she deserved to eat the food he had prepared. “Fine,” he said, shoving the plate towards her. He passed Derek his plate, rounding the counter so that the three of them could sit at the bar, eating together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for breakfast,” Derek said, sitting between Cora and Stiles, not quite sure if that was the best idea. He forgot that they were the same age, which meant that they were in the same classes in school until the fire when Cora was 12. Interesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek felt Stiles’ hand slide along his hip, fingers playing with the edge of his shirt. He ate with one hand absentmindedly, as if this causal intimacy was par for the course with the two of them. Not that Derek was complaining in the slightest. He liked it when Stiles would touch him— not that they had much experience with each other. He wanted Stiles’ hands on him, wanted to feel his fingers trailing along his skin. It gave him comfort, and he could feel his wolf preening under the attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the heaviness of what they had to do looming on Derek’s shoulders, he felt like he really needed the comfort. They had plans to kill the Alphas either today or tomorrow— the sooner the better— and it was hard for Derek to want to play into the teasing of Cora and Stiles. He really wanted to bury his face in Stiles’ neck and get a few last deep breaths before their fate became entirely uncertain. It was hard enough, making the connection that he did, only to know that Stiles was going to be ripped away from him so quickly. It was hard enough to pretend like he wasn’t already thinking about what happens when Stiles leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re quiet,” Stiles said his fingers tracing circles on Derek’s naked skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thinking,” Derek whispered back, even though Cora could clearly hear everything that they were saying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be over soon,” Stiles responded. But that wasn’t necessarily what Derek wanted to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were all done, Derek silently cleared the plates. He could hear Stiles and Cora talking about a few things, but he couldn’t bother himself to try and listen hard enough to actually pay attention. He let himself fall into the background, losing himself in the thought of the Alphas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a few strategies he thought would work well, but it wasn’t like he could be the sole decider. They had to meet up with Lydia and Parrish to figure out what would work with their level of arsenal and their general attack plan. Parrish was more of the planning sort of guy, but Derek was used to being the muscle. He wasn’t sure if being the muscle was actually going to work out very well for anyone this time around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get ready and meet up with Jordan and Lyds, yeah?” Stiles said to the room as a whole, addressing both Derek and Cora. Instead of heading upstairs, Stiles rounded the counter to stand in Derek’s space while Cora walked back to her own room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Derek murmured, hauling him in more completely. He leaned forward to bury his face in Stiles’ neck, getting what he really wanted. He could feel himself concentrate more, the feeling of their skin together something that Derek didn’t think he could ever get over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Stiles asked, his arms hugging tight to Derek’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p> <span>“Let’s just do this,” Derek said, giving one last huff of a breath before loosening his grip on Stiles, letting him out of his grasps. </span></p><p>
  <span>Stiles held on tight for one more moment, only to press a hard kiss to Derek’s mouth. “Lets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek drove them to the station in his truck, Stiles riding in the middle. Derek tried very hard not to think about the fact that Stiles was wearing an old pair of his jeans and one of his old shirts, and was likely commando since he didn’t grab a pair of Derek’s underwear. That was not something Derek particularly wanted to think about when Stiles’ whole leg was pressing against Derek’s, with Stiles’ scent wrapped in Derek’s own. It was too teasingly good for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was likely the least appropriate time to be thinking anything about Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, the station was business as usual. Janice gave them all a nod as they walked in, barely blinking at the sight of Cora among them. That was one reason why Derek liked her so much: she had discretion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parrish and Lydia were already in the conference room, a map spread out over the table in front of them. They had pens in their hands, leaning over each other to mark something else that they needed to do. It was very much like them to be falling all over each other this way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Stiles greeted, clapping his hands together. He looked between Parrish and Lydia, where they were curved along each other. “You two seemed to have gotten a lot done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit down,” Lydia said, both commanding and playful. She shook her head at Stiles, as if in total disbelief of his aloof attitude and knowledgeable that this is a totally reasonable response from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek followed instructions, gesturing towards the chair next to him for Cora to sit in. She had already met Lydia last summer, so there were no introductions to be had. This made the whole thing incredibly more simple, even with the complications of the concept lying ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we have the plan worked out, at least most of it,” Parrish said, tapping the map. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plan was laid out like this: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia and Cora would go for recon today to figure out how recently the Alphas were there, and if they were going to be there tonight. There was something more complicated to do with Lydia’s magic and her banshee abilities, but Derek didn’t fully understand them, and now wasn’t really the time to figure it out. They would report back to the boys back at the station with their updates so that they could figure out the time of their attack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While they were doing recon, Stiles, Parrish, and Derek were supposed to prepare ammunition and any other magical properties that were going to be required of them. Parrish already had wolfsbane bullets, but they were going to need some sort of magical aspects as well as a few molotov cocktails. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The actual execution of the plan was to have the house surrounded as best they could. Parrish would be at the road, facing the front door with the wolfsbane bullets. Stiles would approach the back with his own gun and bullets, leaving Derek and Cora to take the sides for any sort of escaping. Lydia would approach the front door to draw them out, posing as a detective looking for Dora. She had been seen enough around the station that if the Alphas knew anything, they would assume that she was a part of their law enforcement. She had her ability to scream, which was the only reason that she was going up there as bait rather than Stiles or Parrish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From there, the only goal was to kill them all. Once they were dead, they were going to pile the bodies in the house and set it on fire, ensuring that there was no possibility of the wolves coming back. Even though Derek and Cora hated fire, and would always hate fire, it was the only way. They both knew that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to be okay with the fire part?” Parrish asked, looking between Derek and Cora as if double checking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as we can leave before you start anything,” Cora said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s settled,” Parrish said, leaning back in his chair. He ran his hands over his face, clearly unhappy with the entire situation. “I don’t want us to complicate things any further, not when we aren’t necessarily evenly matched against them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to absolutely destroy them,” Stiles said quietly, shaking his head. “We have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting around at the station was probably the worst thing for Derek to personally take on. He didn’t need to prepare like Parrish or Stiles, so he paced the length of the conference room, glancing out the window as if he was going to see Lydia and Cora drive up. He knew they were supposed to call, but he had this hope that they would suddenly reappear to make everything better. He tried to contain the edge he felt and the way that the nerves burrowed underneath his skin, but he couldn’t hide all of it. Hence the pacing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making even me nervous,” Stiles muttered, not looking up from where he was flipping through a spell book. “I’m over here trying to find something to give us a slight edge and you’re pacing around like it’s important,” Stiles added, throwing a balled up piece of paper at him without looking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s not a lot for me to do,” Derek said, sort of helplessly. He sat down, if only to please Stiles and try to keep the nerves of the room under control. He wasn’t necessarily the best at being level headed, or even expressive, but he knew that his emotions came across through his body language more clearly than anything else. He knew he had to hold himself together, if not for himself but for others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re going to call in a few minutes, and then you’ll be significantly less stressed,” Stiles reminded him, jotting down a few notes. “Where can I get mountain ash around here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parrish frowned, looking up from where he was cleaning his shotgun. “You can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But mountain ash would be extremely helpful for me personally. It’s where my spark has the most control,” Stiles said, tapping his fingers on the book. “I can enhance things, make them easier for me to use and more lethal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More lethal than wolfsbane rounds?” Derek asked, gesturing towards the box of ammunition on the table. He frowned at the sight of the ammunition, knowing that it was lethal to him too. He tried hard not to think about that within this particular context. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left my throwing knives back in Portland,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Didn’t think that they’d come in handy. I was wrong about that,” Stiles said, scribbling something down in his notebook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adding a note to bring your knives next time?” Derek asked, raising his eyebrows at Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A note not to get chummy with the local law enforcement,” Stiles muttered, smirking. When he looked up and caught Derek’s eye, he winked playfully, doubly proving his sarcasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed quiet for a little longer, waiting for the phone to ring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek tried his hardest not to think about the worst case scenario aspects of the plan. He was usually good about not worrying, but he couldn’t help but try and piece together what the ideal scenario would be. In his past experience, fighting the supernatural was harder than pretty much anything else, and having a slight disadvantage was not boding well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had come to think of the people he was surrounded with as his family. Yes, Cora was his family by blood, but he couldn’t help but think of Parrish like a brother, which included Lydia in that grouping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(When he thought of Stiles, he could almost feel the buzzing under his skin and the sense of wholeness that came with his proximity.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone ringing brought Derek out of his thoughts. He listened carefully as Parrish picked it up, speaking in low tones with Lydia. The frown line in Parrish’s brow grew as he listened to her speak, his eyebrows pulling downwards with the weight of her words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you soon,” Parrish said, hanging up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that about?” Stiles asked, snapping the book shut. He looked attentively at Parrish, as if already clued in on pieces of what was happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They overheard them talking, saying that they were leaving soon. Now. If we want to strike, we have to move,” Parrish said, running a hand over his face. “It’s now or never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s go,” Derek said firmly, standing. He set his jaw firmly, already mentally preparing for the fight that was going to happen. He was going to protect the people of Florence, and he was going to kill those Alphas for what they did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something sort of poetic about heading out towards Dora’s old place with the sun at their backs, knowing that it was the moment things were going to change. Inevitably, there would be dead bodies as a result. That was not something that everyone really wanted to think about, but that thought lived at the back of Derek’s mind as he drove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’re ready,” Parrish said as they approached the designated stopping point for the cars. Cora’s car was already parked there, sitting just off the road enough that no one should see it when they’re driving. Derek could leave his car in the open because a police vehicle was far less suspicious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Stiles muttered, turning his head from side to side to crack his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They retrieved the ammunition from the back, Stiles shouldering the backpack with the molotov cocktails tucked inside. Stiles took a handgun and some extra ammo while Parrish took the shotgun and an extra handgun with ammo. They were all loaded up with ammunition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hiked through the woods towards the clearing of Dora’s house, careful to be quiet and tread lightly.  Not that they needed to be too wary, since the Alphas shouldn’t have been able to hear them, but they could never be too careful. It was life and death, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora and Lydia were waiting on the edge of the clearing, talking quietly to each other. When they heard the boys approach, they both straightened, their expressions both hard set brows and a tenseness in their eyes. They looked prepared for battle. </span>
</p><p> <span>“Finally,” Cora said, rolling her eyes. “I’m already in position, so it’s up to you four,” Cora added, gesturing towards where she was at the west side of the house. </span></p><p>
  <span>“No one’s moved?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve stayed inside. Neither of us have moved close enough to hear them,” Lydia said, shaking her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get into position,” Parrish said, gesturing towards Lydia. The two of them took off towards the front of the house, where Parrish was to take the south side with Lydia as the bait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Stiles said, gesturing towards Derek. They took off in the opposite direction, with Stiles planning on taking the north side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked in silence for a few moments, their footsteps nearly in sync with each other as they stomped through the forest. It was not like Stiles to stay so quiet, but even now, there wasn’t much to say that was worth risking their own positioning. It was better to stay quiet and mentally prepare for the fate that was ahead of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they reached the north side of the house, Stiles reached out and pulled Derek to a stop, the two of them moving to stand toe to toe. “See you on the other side,” Stiles said, reaching up to cup Derek’s cheek. He leaned forward, kissing Derek tenderly. It didn’t feel like a goodbye kiss, but it felt like they were acknowledging the dire situation that they were in. Derek pressed into the kiss hard, taking what he wanted from what could be his last kiss with Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you on the other side,” Derek whispered, pulling away. He turned away from Stiles, walking around to where he was to be positioned on the east side. He resisted the urge to turn around and look at Stiles one last time. He wanted to, he did, but he resisted. He had to think about the task at hand, even if he wanted to push Stiles down into the dirt and kiss like the world was ending. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked his way through the brush to where he was supposed to be stationed. It was slightly harder to translate his exact position from paper to real life, but he could see the flat wall of the garage, so he was confident that he was in the correct place. He was there as muscle, not smarts, which allowed him to relax his shoulders slightly. He knew how to fight, and he knew how to fight an Alpha. He could do this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parrish must have known that Derek got into position, because he could hear Lydia walking up the long driveway, her shoes crunching against the gravel. She was walking with even, calm steps. This alone would make it hard for the Alphas to question her intentions; confidence could often overcome lying or other chemo signals in her scent that would trigger a response from the Alphas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she knocked on the door, it felt as if the whole forest had held its breath. There was no room to breathe as they all waited for an Alpha to answer the door, with Lydia’s own fate being held in their ability to save her in time if things went south. This plan was not the cleanest, but it might be the only chance that they had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tall, overly beefed man opened the door. He was shirtless, his skin smooth and unmarred with any marks. He glanced down at Lydia’s small frame, dwarfing her completely. “Hello?” he asked gruffly, his chest puffing up as he spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, I’m with the Florence police department, and I’ve been sent up here to check on Dora since she hasn’t reported to work in a few days. Do you mind if I come inside and take a look?” Lydia asked, poking her head to the side as if attempting to see around him and into the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man stepped further into the doorway, preventing Lydia from seeing anything behind him. “I’m Dora’s nephew and she’s sick,” the man said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Lydia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but I know that Dora doesn’t have any siblings. How are you her nephew?” Lydia asked, stepping back from the door as if to get a better look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He growled, stepping towards her. “Maybe she hasn’t mentioned me,” he said, grinning maniacally. He stepped forward, looming over Lydia on purpose. He left the protection of the front door, the other Alphas starting to poke their heads out as if wondering what was happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia stepped back a few steps, almost stumbling as she did so. “I’m sorry, I just figured that she’d list relatives as emergency contacts,” Lydia said, pushing hair off of her face. She was playing up the innocence hard, but that wasn’t going to be enough to stop the werewolf from suspecting something. Her heart hadn’t ticked into a lie yet, and whether or not that was because of magic, Derek wouldn’t know. It should have signaled that she was lying by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure why I’m not listed,” the man said, his eyes flashing red. He glanced behind him, catching the eyes of the two Alphas in the doorway. He stretched his hand out, claws appearing quickly from his fingertips. He was not even bothering to put up a human front anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia took a deep breath in, and without thinking Derek reached up and plugged his ears with his fingers. Only a moment later she let out the loudest scream that Derek ever heard, even with his fingers in his ears. He watched the beefed up Alpha fall to his knees in front of her, clutching at his ears, trying to protect himself from the sound of her screaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other Alphas in the house started to pile out, not nearly as affected as the beefed up guy. Three spilled out the front, which meant that two others went out the back. Derek started towards the house, running towards the back where Stiles was. He heard a shotgun go off in the front yard, but still headed towards the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles shot the first Alpha square in the chest, leaving him laying flat in the dirt. The other one ran towards Stiles, knocking the gun from his hands quickly, his hands coming up as if to slice at Stiles’ throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek tackled the Alpha, knocking the two of them into the dirt. He grappled with the Alpha for a moment, trying to throw a knee into the Alpha’s stomach or groin, hoping that something would land. He felt claws dig into his shoulder, tearing downwards in an attempt to injure Derek enough to incapacitate them. In retaliation, Derek turned and bit at the arm that came up towards his face, his teeth sinking into the forearm as he shifted fully, his teeth elongating as he tore into the arm. A leg slipped up between them, kicking Derek off of the Alpha entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without thinking, Derek dove back in, feeling the pain of the Alpha’s marks on his skin. He knew that they wouldn’t heal very fast, if at all, but he threw himself into the fight as ferociously as he would if he was uninjured. He punched the Alpha in the face hard, hearing the satisfying snap of the Alpha’s head to the side. The Alpha rushed back, digging his claws into Derek’s stomach, trying to forcibly rip Derek’s stomach from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek, lying flat on his back with the Alpha above him and his claws in his stomach, reached up with one weak hand and slashed across the Alpha’s throat with his claws, pushing as hard as possible. He felt the Alpha still above him, the warm blood splashing down onto his chest and his neck, the stickiness of it covering Derek. The Alpha slumped, limply, the body falling partially on top of Derek. He could hear the Alpha’s heart stop, and suddenly he felt a surge of power flow through him, burning him up from the inside out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek howled loudly, roaring from the pit of his stomach, his pain fueled into the roar. He could feel his body reacting to the Alpha powers, with Cora’s own connection to him much more present now. He could feel her emotions, her mood, and he knew that she was okay. He could feel Parrish, albeit more faintly, but he could feel the determination coming through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even more surprising was that he could feel Stiles. It was faint, almost not there, but he could feel the connection with Stiles. It wasn’t new, like he thought it’d be, but it was old. Older than Derek’s own connection with Parrish. It was old and small, almost unnoticeable if Derek wasn’t looking for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek,” Stiles said, his voice breathless as he shoved the dead Alpha off of him. “Fuck, Derek,” Stiles repeated, his hands coming up bloody from where Derek’s insides were starting to spill to his outsides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Derek moaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, you stupid idiot. You didn’t need to do that. I had the gun, I could have killed him,” Stiles said, fussing over his chest, his hand coming up to stroke Derek’s hair. The blood on Stiles’ hand stuck Derek’s hair down, matting it down much like his clothes. The sticky feeling of blood was disgusting, but Derek couldn’t move. Not with the pain he was in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the Alpha now,” Derek said, opening his eyes so he could see Stiles above him. “I’m your Alpha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles looked down at him, wide eyed. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his hands stilling. When he spoke, it was not anything that Derek would have expected. Instead of having his hands still, Stiles pushed his hands onto Derek’s chest, moving to straddle his hips. “Salveo, recupero, roboris, percuro,” Stiles chanted, warmth moving from his hands and into Derek’s skin. “Fuck my Latin is so bad please work,” Stiles added, his eyes closing as he pushed his hands harder into Derek’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Derek said, relaxing into the ground. He could feel the way that Stiles’ warmth engulfed him, wrapping around him carefully. If this is what dying felt like, Derek couldn’t judge people for choosing it over life. He couldn’t help but want Stiles to be the last thing he saw. The only thing to make his dying moment better is if he could see Cora one last time, just to know that she was alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay,” Stiles argued back, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands down Derek’s chest, careful not to touch the edges of the tears in his stomach. “You are not dying here today, Derek Hale. I helped you once before. It has to work again,” Stiles said, tears slipping down his face and landing on Derek’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek reached up weakly, touching the side of Stiles’ wrist. Then he blacked out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He woke up with a start, sitting up gasping. The foggy memory of having his insides ripped out lingered in his mind, and Derek’s hands immediately reached to his stomach, surprised to feel intact skin. He ran his hand up his chest, feeling the bloody shirt, but also the way that there were no marks or rips in his skin. He felt completely fine. Which couldn’t be possible, not even with his newly acquired Alpha powers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached out through his new pack bonds, reaching for those he could feel. He could tell that Cora was alright but stressed, and the same went for Parrish. Lydia was barely noticeable, but she wasn’t dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’ pack bond was stronger now, almost as strong as Parrish’s. He could tell that Stiles was passed out, his part of the bond completely blank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning, Derek saw Stiles only a few feet away, completely passed out. He was slumped in an awkward position, looking much like he did when he had passed out on Derek the day before. Crawling the distance between the two of them, Derek rotated Stiles so that he was in a more comfortable position, moving his arms and legs so that he was in a more proper position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Derek whispered, his voice hoarse. He ran his hand along Stiles’ face, listening hard to his heart beat to make sure that everything was alright. He checked Stiles over to make sure that he was physically okay, and there was not a single mark on him. Only Derek’s blood soaking up to his forearms, almost as if he was wearing red gloves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cora!” Derek called out, his voice booming in the clearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear her running around the house towards them, her footsteps light and careful. She picked up the pace when she saw the two of them on the ground, quickly dashing to their side. She took one look at the two of them, covered in blood, before immediately trying to run her hands on Derek’s chest, searching for what bled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was the Alpha. And my stomach,” Derek said, pushing her hands away. When she didn’t move her hands, he flashed his eyes at her, the crimson red a shock to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora fell back on her butt, her jaw dropped in shock. She looked at Derek like he was an entirely new person, scrambling backwards as if unsure. “You’re an Alpha now,” Cora said, surprise and shock woven through her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to kill him,” Derek said quietly, gesturing towards the body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought Stiles was supposed to— I thought that— Derek,” Cora said, shaking her head. “You didn’t inherit the Alpha powers all those years ago. I didn’t know that you could even </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Alpha,” Cora said, her brow furrowing in confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know—” Derek said, cutting himself off. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his wolf. He could feel it thrashing inside of him, just another part of him that was freaking out about the situation at hand. “I never thought it </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen, but I never anticipated killing an Alpha,” Derek added, looking down at his hands. They were covered in blood, the blood of the Alpha he killed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parrish and Lydia came running around the corner, both of them making a noise at the sight in front of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a bloodied dead Alpha, Derek covered in both his own blood and the Alpha’s, and Stiles laying passed out. It was not an ideal sight to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Lydia said, crouching over Stiles. She was careful when she touched his face, her fingers barely tracing his features. “Did he save you again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Again?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Derek thought, trying to wrap his head around that fact alone. “He was crouched over me, chanting Latin. I felt warm all over and blacked out. When I came to, he was there,” Derek said, gesturing towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The idiot,” Lydia murmured, reaching down to check for his pulse. “He’s exhausted his magic. We have to take him somewhere safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are all the Alphas dead?” Derek asked, glancing up at Parrish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of them,” Parrish said, nodding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek flashed his eyes at Parrish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, fuck. Didn’t think that would happen. Or even could happen, considering what happened after the fire,” Parrish said, taking a step back. He glanced at Cora, as if waiting for her to say something else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia, the ever practical one, stood firmly. “Cora, Parrish, drag the Alpha bodies inside. I’ll meet up with you in a few minutes to light the house up. I’m getting these two cleaned up and out of here right now,” Lydia said, gesturing towards where Stiles and Derek were on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of arguing, Cora and Parrish set off to do just that. Cora grabbed the Alpha next to Derek, dragging him up the back steps of the house and into the open doorway. She disappeared into the house, closing the back door behind her, removing her from their sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia grabbed the hose from the back of the house, turning it on and waiting for the cool trickle of water to come out. When the water started streaming out steadily, she gestured for Derek to come towards her. She helped him hose off, even though the water was freezing cold. He stripped his shirt, washing off his hands and arms of blood. He even got his hands wet enough to try and wipe some of the blood off of Stiles, at least to keep his hands somewhat cleaner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried not to let his thoughts explode out of his brain. There was far too much to think about, and the mere idea that he was an Alpha now was a major object of attention in his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck happened,” Lydia said quietly, her voice barely audible from where she was looking over Stiles, her whole body turned away from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek tried not to feel sick at the fact that all of his friends, his family, were shying away from him now that he was an Alpha. “He shot the first one, but the second one knocked the gun out of his hands before I could get here. I tackled him and started to fight him but I should have— I should have stopped, let Stiles kill him,” Derek said, shaking his head. He could feel the subtle changes happening in his body, changes that would mark him as an Alpha werewolf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he took a deep breath, he could feel his chest expand, his shoulders relaxing into a broader position. He was standing straighter, the strength of being an Alpha flowing through him. This was not what he wanted, not at all. Not if it meant that the others would be afraid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That first scream was for you,” Lydia replied, standing above Stiles. “I screamed because I felt that you were going to die.” She turned towards Derek, her long hair flowing behind her with the slight wind. Her eyes were bright, wide with the fear of her own knowledge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m here,” Derek said, feeling sort of confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first time I screamed was the night of the fire,” Lydia said quickly, her words coming out in a rush. She looked away from Derek, her hair partially covering her face. Even now, she looked elegant, her eyes glancing down at Stiles. “Stiles and I had a school project and we were at his house. A month before his mom died. We were sitting there, and I felt this intense sorrow come over me, and I screamed. I didn’t know what was happening, and I screamed for them. For you,” Lydia continued, glancing back at Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I didn’t die that night,” Derek said, his eyes narrowing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles and I rode our bikes out into the preserve, following my instinct. When we got there, you were running into the house, or at least trying to. You got caught up on the burning porch, a piece of the roof falling on you. You were as good as dead,” Lydia said, turning to face him. “Do you not remember any of this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek shook his head. He remembered coming home, running onto the porch, but the next thing he knew he was on his back in the dirt, Cora crouched over him with tears in her eyes and the police behind her. Laura was on his other side, coming into the Alpha powers and not holding it together very well. The three of them were all they had left. Derek didn’t question how he woke up away from the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles saved you that night. He pulled you from the house by himself, and sat over you with his hands on your chest. He said he had to save you, that he knew he had to save you. He was crying, and there was a glow that came around the two of you. He saved you that day, he used his spark to save you,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “Fuck, and he just did it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was so much going through Derek’s mind that he wasn’t sure where to start. All of this information was an assault on what he thought was true. It brought up more questions, things that probably couldn’t be answered by anyone but Stiles himself. And now he was in some sort of magical coma because he saved Derek again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that why he felt that buzzing with Stiles, that wholeness, that completeness? Why did Stiles not recognize him when they first met? How could he have hidden this information for this long?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All done,” Cora said, walking around from the front of the house, sounding grim. “Any changes?” Cora added, gesturing towards Stiles. She walked until she was by Derek’s side, their shoulders brushing, her own silent way of trying to support him. She always had a hard time expressing herself since the fire, so she did in small ways. Standing next to Derek was her way of standing at his back, protecting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll be out for at least a day,” Lydia said, crouching down next to him. She gestured towards the backpack a few feet away. “We’re going to light the house up now, if you want to leave,” Lydia said, eyes flicking between the two of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take Stiles back to mine,” Derek said, gesturing towards him. When Lydia nodded, he crouched down and scooped Stiles’ limp body into his arms, the buzzing feeling between them stronger than it had ever been. He could feel his whole body relax at the thought of Stiles’ proximity, and he could feel Stiles’ heart through his skin. Deep inside of him, his wolf was thrashing with the thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll meet you back there,” Parrish said, walking to stand next to Lydia. He let his fingers trail across her hip, as physical as he would get in front of others. He must have been really worried, to try and initiate something while they were all still standing there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora and Derek walked, carrying Stiles, back to the truck. Derek could feel the cold of the impending night seeping into his skin, making him shiver slightly as they walked. His shivers only made Cora walk closer to him, their shoulders brushing with every step. It made Derek feel a little better about the whole situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you drive us back?” Derek asked, holding Stiles in his arms. He didn’t want to let go of him yet, not until he was totally and completely sure he was going to be safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They have my car,” Cora said, gesturing towards her own car, pulled further into the brush. “I’ll wait here for the two of them, make sure that they get out alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But the fire,” Derek said, frowning at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora punched his shoulder lightly, being supportive in her own supportive way. “I’m not as freaked as you are about it. Take care of Stiles,” Cora said. She walked back towards her own car, her head ducked. She fiddled with her fingers, an unreadable expression on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of questioning it, Derek loaded himself and Stiles in his truck, trying not to let his hands shake as he drove back into town and straight to his own house. He didn’t even think about how weird it would be to be shirtless carrying an unconscious Stiles back into his house, but he would have to deal with the consequences later. He had to protect Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laid Stiles down in his bed, stripping off his shoes and his pants, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible. He would have helped him out of his jacket, but Derek felt unsure about how to move his arms for that. He wanted to make him comfortable, not hurt him while he was passed out. Especially with the Alpha strength he had acquired, the one that made him shut all the doors with a slam and had him almost punching through the wall when he tried to balance himself up the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek stripped and got into the shower, wanting badly to properly wash off all of the blood, get himself as clean as possible. He could smell the way that the other Alpha’s blood was muting his scent, making him not feel like himself. He wanted only the scent of his pack on him, a drive that was stronger now that he was an Alpha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even think he could become an Alpha, not after Laura was killed by hunters. When the Alpha status didn’t transfer to him, he figured that it was because of Paige. Because of killing her when he was younger. He thought blue eyes meant that you couldn’t become an Alpha, assuming that was the truth since it was hard to find any other explanation for his lack of Alpha status a few years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got dressed in a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, deciding to kneel at Stiles’s side, make sure that he was still breathing and his heart was still beating steady. If Derek reached out and grabbed his hand, he could almost feel Stiles’ energy, feel his heart beating in his palms and feel his emotions through their bond. He could feel the emptiness of Stiles’ current mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek was trying to find a way to explain their connection, and it was something that Derek had never anticipated would be the reality. He figured that Stiles was his mate, or that they had some sort of cosmic connection. Instead, it was the fact that they were bound magically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that didn’t explain the way that Derek felt, the way that he felt right and whole around Stiles. He didn’t want to say the L word because of its intentions, but he could tell that he was falling hard for Stiles. It had only been a few days, a week, and he felt like he wanted to spend every moment with Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned his head down on the bed next to Stiles, letting his eyes close with his hand in Stiles’. He let himself rest, even with his swirling brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he woke up, he was slumped over on the floor, using his arm as a pillow. He immediately sat up, running a hand over his face to wake himself up as efficiently as possible. On his bed, in the middle, was Stiles. He was still asleep, but he had rolled over, which meant that he went from being entirely unconscious to merely asleep. It meant he wasn’t in a magical coma anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles?” Derek asked experimentally, trying to see if he was even awake. He waited a few seconds, listening for a response, before he determined that Stiles had to be asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek got up and headed downstairs, squinting at the sunshine coming in through his windows, surprised that they finally had a sunny day in Florence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the sun also meant that Derek had slept in. Probably quite late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back to the land of the living, sleeping beauty,” Cora said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen. She had her phone in her hands, not bothering to look up at the sight of him. She laughed at something on her screen, acting as if Derek wasn’t even standing anywhere near her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long did I sleep?” Derek asked, rubbing a hand over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I got back at seven you were already out of it, sleeping on the floor like a weirdo. It’s nearly noon now, I was just about to make up some lunch,” Cora said, putting her phone down. “Parrish is at the station dealing with the house fire and investigating why so many people died in Dora’s house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Derek forgot about that half of the plan. He was supposed to help Parrish, assist him with the investigation. He was probably at the station with the others, trying to get the rest of the deputies to do the investigating. Derek was supposed to be there to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do have Christmas day off work, right? Because I cannot deal with this drama on Christmas. It’s the one holiday I still find sacred,” Cora said, opening up the fridge as she spoke. “With everything that’s happened, I thought we could have a proper Christmas dinner, maybe invite Jordan. Maybe Lydia and Stiles if they’re both still in town,” Cora said, looking over the things in Derek’s fridge. She started to get out some vegetables and the chicken breasts that were in there, as if she was going to prepare lunch for the both of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A proper Christmas?” Derek asked, taking Cora’s chair, slumping down onto the counter. The thought of that was nice. They always did Christmas together, every year, but they almost never had traditional foods. They either made pizza or got takeout Chinese food in honor of </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Christmas Story</span>
  </em>
  <span>. When Laura was alive, the three of them would make tacos since they were Laura’s favorite food. It felt weird to do that now. Maybe they were making their own traditions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, a proper Christmas. I got you a few gifts, but you don’t even have a tree up. How the hell are we supposed to have a real Christmas?” Cora asked, getting out a cutting board. She said it as if Derek hadn’t even bothered thinking about it, but he already had. They had a fake tree in the basement, but Derek hated setting it up without Cora. Didn’t feel the same to decorate a tree without her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s do the tree tonight,” Derek said, rapping his knuckles on the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe your little lover boy can stick around,” Cora said, glancing up quickly at Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you can finally bring home whoever you’re seeing at school,” Derek said, raising a single eyebrow at her. He had smelled whoever it was faintly on Cora when she had first arrived, but he didn’t want to say anything. It would have been pointless when they had a lot of other things on their minds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora stiffened, but didn’t break a sweat. She didn’t even pause as she pulled a pan out of the cabinet, setting it on the stove to cook their food. But she also didn’t look up to make eye contact with Derek. She knew how to hide things, to preserve her own privacy. Her evasion was almost expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned quickly, pulling out a bottle of vodka from above the fridge. It was spiked with wolfsbane, if the flowers at the bottom of the bottle were what Derek figured them to be. Cora must have brought it with her when she came back this time around, from whatever werewolf contact she had in Eugene. She grabbed small glasses from above the sink, clinking them down hard on the counter. She poured them each roughly a shot’s worth of drink, grabbing one of the cups for herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheers to not discussing our love lives until after Christmas,” Cora said, lifting her glass in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek took his, clinking it with hers and then downing the contents. The bitterness of the wolfsbane burned at his throat, but otherwise it went down smooth. He set the glass down on the counter, glancing up at Cora. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that we have that settled, let’s make some lunch and go help with damage control at the station,” Cora said, going right back to cutting and preparing things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How reasonable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Derek got back to the house that night, Cora trailing along behind him, both a little worse for wear between the shot and the paperwork at the station, he was not really expecting to do much else besides check on Stiles and get some dinner in his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not expecting to see Stiles up and about, making dinner for the three of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Stiles greeted, waving cheerfully at them. He had oven mitts on his hands and an apron tied around his waist, which was slightly confusing because Derek didn’t even really know that he had aprons at his house. But Stiles had found one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Derek said, walking his holster and jacket back to the coat rack in the hallway. Once they were hung up, he made a beeline for Stiles, not stopping until he had crashed into him, wrapping him up into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around Stiles’ shoulders, pressing his face into Stiles’ neck. He breathed him in, feeling the buzz from their contact, the feeling of rightness in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Der,” Stiles whispered, his arms wrapping around Derek as tight as possible. He squeezed him back, a warmth and happiness coming off of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, don’t do that to me again,” Derek said firmly, pulling back but keeping Stiles at arms length. “That is apparently the third time you’ve magick-ed and passed out in front of me, and I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles pulled away from him, frowning. “Lydia told you about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah she did—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was not hers to tell to you,” Stiles said, turning to the oven, crouching down so that he could look at whatever was in the oven. His entire posture changed at that fact, moving from happy to a now annoyed posture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to go shower,” Cora said, quickly walking into the back of the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek looked down at Stiles, confused at the quick change in attitude. “Was she not supposed to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was something that I was going to tell you eventually, but now she told you, and you have all these preconceived notions about who I am and why I saved you and—” Stiles cut himself off, standing up quickly. He took the pan out of the oven, the enchiladas bubbling in the pan. He threw the oven mitts off, crossing his arms over his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?” Derek asked, tilting his head towards Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you awakened my magic! By dying! That’s not something I was planning on telling you anytime soon because it’s sort of a weird thing to say,” Stiles said, stepping away from Derek another step further. “And to say that I saved your life when we were kids, and then didn’t remember you because you grew up to be a total hunk, that’s not something else I was planning to say,” Stiles continued, glancing over at Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek stayed silent for a moment, mulling the information over. Since Stiles had come into town, his whole life had become a whirlwind of action and revelation. He was not exactly prepared for yet another knowledge bomb dropped on him, exploding his life into smithereens of confusion. There was so much he wanted to say to Stiles, things that would probably be knowledge bombs for him, but he felt almost tongue tied. He was so unsure of what to even start to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I get it, I’m totally freaking you out,” Stiles said, turning away from him. He started out of the room, as if he was leaving the house entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Derek said, stepping forward to catch his arm. “I don’t judge you. Not one moment. I actually care about you a lot more than you think,” Derek continued, averting his gaze. It was hard to try and say things to his face when they were touching, when Derek could feel the importance of Stiles burrowing under his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Important?” Stiles asked, his face showing his shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It feels like we were meant to be together— like we were— like you were meant to be mine and I yours,” Derek said, unsure of how to phrase the words. Even as he said them, he knew he was coming on strong. There were no subtle or easy ways to say that he was falling in love with him, that he felt a rightness in his bones he knew he couldn’t find with anyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Stiles asked, his brow furrowing. He stepped back towards Derek, nudging back into his space. “You want to be with me? Like beyond just sex?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t I?” Derek responded quickly. He wanted to find the people who made Stiles doubt, who made him feel like he was less than he was. There were people out there that made Stiles feel like he was worth less than he was, and it was hard for Derek to not want to prove them wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be the death of me,” Stiles murmured, surging forward to kiss Derek hard. He held him tight, his arms wrapping around his neck with a surprising strength. “The absolute fucking death of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things seemed to be okay for the next week. Lydia had to fly up to Seattle for some sort of talk before flying to spend Christmas with her family in California. She hugged them all tightly goodbye, whispering her gratitude for Derek in his ear. She didn’t apologize for spilling Stiles’ secrets, but he knew that she felt remorseful about discussing something that wasn’t hers to discuss. She hugged Stiles tight, squeezing at his shoulders and making him promise not to buy her anything too expensive for Christmas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all sickeningly sweet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora stayed home getting some much needed rest and working on her doctorate thesis, planning out exactly what sort of study she wanted to work on. She was having a hard time finding a good backing professor, but Derek had blind faith in her. He didn’t know a single thing about what she was talking about, but he knew that she was going to kill it. Her bullheaded personality meant that she was going to get what she wanted, no matter what. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles, Derek, and Parrish stayed at the station, working through the new “fire” case that they had. They had identified that it was likely those who had killed Brittney, and all those other girls, but it was hard finding a ton of concrete evidence. All they had was an encrypted cell phone that Stiles had sent back to the FBI labs, hoping to get some sort of information back on the phone and connect Brittney to the others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were pieces of the mystery that Derek didn’t think they’d ever solve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of them quite knew exactly how Brittney had made it from the hotel to the lake, or how she came in the company of the Alphas. Their only working theory was that she had tried to hitchhike back into town, only to have the Alphas scoop her up. Thinking of sweet Brittney like that was hard, but it was the only logical conclusion to make with the evidence that they had not only about her, but her whereabouts the night she died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each day that passed marked a day closer to Stiles leaving Florence. They would get home and feverishly devour each other, barely making it through the door before stripping down and getting each other off quickly. It was as if they both knew the timeline and the looming end to their tryst. Derek wanted to drink in Stiles’ scent for as long as he was allowed, unsure of how he was supposed to survive without Stiles in his grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek fell harder and harder, unsure of how to tell Stiles, or even Cora for that matter. He was royally fucked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek rolled over, hand searching for Stiles’ warmth that was ever present in his bed. Instead of making contact with Stiles’ smooth skin, Derek’s hand made contact with a piece of folded paper, laying where Stiles would normally lay in bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brought the paper up to his face, opening his eyes quickly to read what was on it. He had to blink to focus his eyes and get his brain to fire on all cylinders this early in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Had to go back to Portland. Sorry for the hasty exit. It was probably all for the best. Know that I’ll miss you. S. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek read the note over and over, as if reading it would suddenly reveal more information about what actually transpired. His fingers trailed over the note, the impressions of the paper, the way that Stiles’ pen had added a flourish to the S like he was used to signing his name with a single letter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just last night, they were laying in bed together after a day of paperwork. Stiles had his head pillowed on Derek’s chest, breathing onto Derek and letting his fingers trail along Derek’s ribs, gently tickling him. He had murmured quite words of affection into Derek’s chest, murmuring about how much he loved laying there together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Derek had wanted to say the L word, wanted to give him everything. He was bitterly glad he didn’t. )</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” Derek roared, his eyes flashing red. He got out of bed, breathing hard, trying not to let his claws drop out of his fingers. He looked down at the note again, reading over the words. Hasty exit? All for the best? This was the same man who was acting as if they had forever together just the night before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora’s feet were heavy on the stairs as she ran up, bursting into Derek’s room with a heavy breath. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced around the room, looking between the note in Derek’s hand and the distinct absence of Stiles. Around the room his clothes were gone, his bag gone, any shred of him that still lingered gone. He had erased himself from the room, as if that was going to erase him from Derek’s mind and heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s gone,” Derek said pathetically, his eyes flashing red. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his hardest not to let his anchor slip, not to let go with the instinct to shred and destroy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Cora muttered, crossing to Derek and pulling him into a hug. She squeezed him hard, scratching her blunt nails down his back in a way that was so similar to his mother. She would always trail her nails on their backs in an attempt to comfort them, and Cora copying her mannerism was more comforting than any words that she could say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood like that for longer than Derek wanted to admit. Instead of heading into work, he crawled back into bed and buried his face in Stiles’ pillow. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Hoes don’t get cold,” Cora said, her teeth chattering together. She huddled in the passenger side of the truck, doing up her seat belt quickly before pulling her knees up to her chest.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're finished!</p><p>Huge thanks to everyone who has read and commented. I really do read everything y'all say and it makes me so happy to read your reactions with every chapter. I know I've been sort of all over the place posting this, but we're finished now!</p><p>I struggled really hard with this ending, which means I'll likely revisit for a sequel or epilogue later on when I have some space outside of this fic to think about it. I think that reconciliation is hard to write, and I'm trying to push myself to write through it, but I still struggle sometimes. </p><p>If you haven't had a chance, check out my other Teen Wolf fics I have posted. I'm a big fan of writing Stiles and Derek, so I have a few completed works already up. </p><p>Otherwise, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was hard to go back to “normal” at the station. Derek went out driving most of the day, like he usually did, waiting for any calls to come through his radio. In the week following Stiles leaving, all Derek had done was give out two parking tickets and respond to a cat stuck in a tree. There wasn’t even a cat stuck in a tree, it was a possum who was nesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At night, Derek would sit in the living room until he was so tired he was barely keeping his eyes open, watching whatever shitty tv came on. He wasn’t particularly interested in spending any time in his bedroom, not when Stiles’ scent was still all over everything. He slept on the couch, trying to ignore the fact that it sort of smelled like Stiles too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came home the next weekend to his sheets washed and changed and the windows in his room wide open, airing out any scent of Stiles that was still lingering. Cora was nice when she wanted to be, and she fully understood the hardship that Derek was going through. She didn’t even mention anything, just holed up in her room under the pretense of wrapping Christmas gifts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek had stopped at a few stores in town to pick up something for Cora. He got her a new jacket, one that was dark and heavy and far more appropriate for the winter weather of the coast. He also picked up a few books that she had said she wanted, having the bookstore in town order them in. He wasn’t sure what else to get her, and without Stiles, he wasn’t sure why he was even bothering with the whole Christmas spirit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole town was decorated for Christmas. The station had a Christmas tree in the corner, the town had wreaths on nearly every door, and even Cora had put up their tree in the house. She had hung the ornaments, leaving only a few special ones for Derek to hang. He hung them sort of reluctantly, his eyes scanning over the Christmas tree helplessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora had talked about hosting a big Christmas dinner, but plans for that were even falling apart. Parrish was going with Lydia to see her family on the east coast, which left Derek in charge of the station over Christmas. He was going to be on call from the morning of the 23rd through the evening of the 27th, and he was in charge of the whole station. It meant he had to make sure things were running right, file any paperwork, and hope that nothing would happen on those days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole town seemed to be using Christmas to get past the tragedy of Brittney and the fire that killed the Alphas and Dora. He understood the cheer, the need to find something to think about other than the deep tragedy that hit the town, but he couldn’t bring himself to celebrate Christmas like he normally would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was doubly hard, now that he was Alpha. He could feel the need to host a pack Christmas, to hold everything together, but Stiles was ignoring him (even though he could feel him through their bond), and Parrish and Lydia had another family to visit. He knew Cora was starting to feel the same things, realizing that their pack was going away without them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes Cora would join him on the couch, the two of them sitting together in their own sort of misery. Cora had friends at school, a partner that she wasn’t talking about, and her own sort of problems to deal with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can invite whoever you’re dating for Christmas,” Derek suggested, trying to be cordial and inviting about the whole situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has his own family to go home to. Plus he has to come out as trans to his parents and his grandparents, and I have a feeling he’ll drive out here after Christmas,” Cora said, fiddling with the end of her shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s always welcome here,” Derek said quietly, reaching over and squeezing her shoulder gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Cora said, smiling at him. She glanced down at her phone, checking the time. “Wanna get food from the diner? I really don’t feel like cooking today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek shrugged. He liked the diner, and he hadn’t gone since he went with Stiles. It would be a good change of pace, something to take his mind off of the fact that Parrish was leaving tomorrow and that he was going to be in charge of everything, full of stress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get my coat,” Cora said, grabbing her flimsy jean jacket off of the coat rack. She tossed Derek his thick uniform jacket, the silky material cool against his skin as he pulled it on. He tried not to think about the heavy radio in his pocket or the weight of being a police officer in a small town was on his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked out to his truck quietly, Cora shivering in her coat. She hunched her shoulders up, as if she could somehow cover her ears or conserve heat more efficiently that way. “Fuck. It’s cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek shook his head at her, opening up the truck. “You can run back inside and get a better coat, or a hat or something,” Derek said, gesturing back towards his house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hoes don’t get cold,” Cora said, her teeth chattering together. She huddled in the passenger side of the truck, doing up her seat belt quickly before pulling her knees up to her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s an extra sweatshirt under the seat if you need it,” Derek said, starting up the car. He had to wait for it to warm up before even turning on the heat, the car fogging up quickly in the cold air. They sat in the cab of the car for a minute, waiting for it all to warm up enough to drive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do we live where it’s cold? Can’t we move down to San Diego or something? I think I’d rock a killer tan,” Cora said, shooting a look at Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thing was, Derek liked the cold. He liked running through the woods with the cold wind on his cheeks and his breath visible. He liked when he could feel the cold bite at his skin, reminding him that he was still very much alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you finish your doctorate, we can talk about it,” Derek said, shaking his head. “For now, we can get some hot chocolate at the diner or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive to the diner was smooth, the cool air and the darkness of the sky forcing almost everyone inside. Barely anyone was wandering between the shops, only those who hadn’t found presents yet. He felt a bit of pity for those who hadn’t shopped; the outlet stores up the coast were going to be out of nearly everything this time of year, and the only other option was to drive into a big city and hope the mall still had some good stuff on sale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The diner was warm and inviting from the outside. There were poinsettias covering every available surface, and a rich garland over the front door. They pushed inside, the sleigh bells jingling above the door, signalling their entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora immediately picked her way to her favorite booth, the one next to the heaters towards the back. She bypassed Erica, who was pouring coffees at another table, slipping into the booth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek took more care to slide past Erica, offering her a smile as he passed. He slid across from Cora in the booth, sort of happy that she picked the one with the best heat source. Compared to the bitter cold outside, it was nice to get warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fancy seeing you two here,” Erica said, stopping by their booth. “Coffees?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Derek said, sliding his mug towards her. “Can we get two hot chocolates as well?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erica nodded, glancing at Cora. “It’s nice to see you back, Cor. Have you given Derek a heart attack yet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, this old man doesn’t know what he’s got coming,” Cora said, kicking at Derek under the table. “No coffee for me, but a water would be great,” Cora added, snatching a menu out from under Erica’s arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse her. The cold weather makes her rude,” Derek said, shaking his head. He rapped his knuckles on the table, glancing around Erica at the special on the board. “I’ll take the special,” he said, figuring that something knew might be better than his usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it,” Erica said, nodding. “Before I forget, we’re doing a friends and family Christmas Eve party here, if you are interested. We’ll have some food and some music, probably go from 7 until whenever people start to trickle home,” Erica added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will there be some hot single guys to distract Derek?” Cora asked, glancing up from the menu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish,” Erica said, sighing. “Boyd will be there, so you won’t be the only silent loner at the event.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It did sound nice, spending Christmas Eve with some friendly faces rather than at home, the holiday looming. He glanced at Cora, as if gauging her opinion. She merely shrugged at him, letting him make the final decision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, sure,” Derek said, agreeing to the party. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have a burger and fries, extra pickles,” Cora said, sliding the menu back into Erica’s arms. “Ooh, and a slice of pie for desert, whatever you’ve got.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming right up,” Erica said, smacking the edge of the booth with her menu stack as she turned and walked back into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat in silence for a few moments, Cora rubbing her hands together and acting like she was out in the freezing cold for hours instead of minutes. She had her jacket pulled tight to her despite being inside, and had her legs crossed under the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we were supposed to run hot,” Cora muttered, shaking her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean that we are immune from the cold,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. “You also act as if you didn’t make a snow angel in a bikini last year,” Derek added, sipping his coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora kicked him hard under the table. “That was for a friend’s birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A special friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora kicked him again. “For my friend Andrea. You’ve met her before, stupid,” Cora said. “She was the one who asked for your number at my birthday two years ago?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to forget,” Derek said. Not that Andrea was a bad person, but she was a little too eager. And far too female for Derek’s more recent tastes in partners. She could do much better than him anyways, but Derek would never say that out loud to Cora. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s dating some sleazy football player now. Some guy who’s supposed to be fast tracked for the NFL,” Cora said, rolling her eyes. “I told her how stupid it was that she’s trying to become a journalist while he’s a football star, but she didn’t listen very hard to what I had to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell her to give us free NFL tickets when he goes pro,” Derek said, shrugging out of his jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you even like football?” Cora asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll like it if I can see it in person,” Derek said. He smiled at Cora, trying to make sure he looked put together. He could hear the door open behind him, and the urge to glance back and check if it was Stiles was far too hard to resist. He knew that was sort of pathetic, but he also knew that he didn’t want anyone but Stiles. Maybe that was pathetic too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I can trade some therapy for NFL tickets. He’ll probably need it, rising to fame and all that,” Cora said, making a thoughtful face. “Speaking of, I was wondering if you’d come with me to get some professional clothes after Christmas,” Cora added, fiddling with the napkin in front of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you have more fashionable friends to take?” Derek asked, brow furrowing. He loved hanging out with his sister, but fashion and professionalism were not his wheelhouse. He barely knew how to dress nice enough for a job interview. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I’d like to go with you. I have to have a full professional adult look for my research in the winter and spring terms, and I really need to make an impression on these people. These are people I’ll need references from, and I want to start preparing myself for a career,” Cora said, twisting her napkin in her fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really growing up,” Derek said quietly, kicking her gently under the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora kicked him back, smiling slightly. “Yeah, it’s kind of weird. I’ll finally be done with school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strange to think his little sister wasn’t so little anymore. She was almost 27 in the spring, and it was hard to think that she was going to be a full fledged adult. They might even live in different cities permanently, living in different homes and acting separately from each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek had moved to Florence because Cora had already started school at the University of Oregon a few years before, and had full intentions of continuing to go to school there. When Parrish got the job offer, it was simple. They would be close enough to make a single day car trip easy, and they could continue to function as a family together during holidays and the summer. But, Cora would likely have to figure out where psychologist positions would be where she could get post-doctorate work before getting her license. It would mean that they would have to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to take a deep breath in order to calm himself, the pressures of being an Alpha weighing heavily on him. He felt like he didn’t have a solid anchor anymore, not when he could feel his pack being split apart by the second. If Cora moved, he would likely move to follow her and get a job wherever she was. But, he really didn’t want to leave Parrish. He was family. Leaving Parrish meant also leaving Lydia, and there was some struggle with the idea of leaving half of his pack behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Leaving both of them would concretely remove him from Stiles’ life. And the thought of that was like a knife to the heart, ripping him apart. He didn’t want to say it out loud for fear of anyone else knowing, but he was confident that Stiles was far more than a romantic interest. More like a mate.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop thinking that we’re going to be split apart forever,” Cora said, shaking her head at Derek. “I’m graduating, and I have a few post-doc interviews coming up in the next few weeks after the holidays. We can decide what happens when I get accepted to one of them,” Cora said, looking down at her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re free to do things independently of me,” Derek said quickly, trying to be supportive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to, okay? We’re all we have, and I’d like to have all my family in the same area,” Cora said, shrugging. “I only applied to places in Oregon, so hopefully I’ll be able to stay relatively close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to do that,” Derek said, feeling genuinely surprised by this turn of events. He knew that she wanted to stay close, but he didn’ think she’d completely compromise an aspect of her future just to ensure that they could keep their lives intact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a few good places around here I like. I don’t really want to move again, and I definitely don’t want us separated by a plane,” Cora said, making a face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Cora said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erica stopped by dropping off Cora’s water and winking at the two of them, her smile devilishly red and strangely inviting. She walked off with a swish of her hips, making her away around the diner to collect empty dishes and wipe crumbs off of tables. It was moments like these, and people like her, that made Derek want to stay in Florence forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really love it here,” Cora said quietly, her eyes watching Derek watch Erica. She smiled at him, her torn up napkin laying limply in front of her. “You’re such a small town sap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like the familiarity of it all,” Derek said honestly, his eyes moving back to his sister. He knocked his knuckles on the table, trying to smile a little brighter. When he was here, in the warm embrace of the diner surrounded by people he felt comfortable with, he felt like the Alpha he now was. He felt like himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve always been a family man,” Cora noted, glancing around them. “What if we picked a place to live with a diner? Or a coffee shop you could frequent, make friends with? I want to go somewhere we both like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll follow you around, doctor,” Derek said, smirking at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not quite,” Cora said, starting to tear her napkin up even more. “And now I’m anxious again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Derek said, not really sure what to say to fix it. He glanced around, as if someone else in the diner could fix it. Maybe Erica could cheer her up, get her back to some sort of normalcy. Maybe he could offer her food, get her sugar up, maybe some comforting— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop looking so stricken,” Cora said, reaching across the table to punch Derek’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. It’s my own anxiety. Later we can sit close together on the couch and we’ll both be less anxious,” Cora added, letting her elbows rest heavily on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like cuddling?” Derek asked, making a face. He loved his sister, but they weren’t necessarily the most physically comfortable together. Physical touch was essential for werewolves and anchoring themselves, but Cora had stopped instigating anything like that once she was a senior in high school. He figured she was never going to ask for anything like that again, not when she had her own sources. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ass. Like some casual physical touch. I’m away from my friends and from Jesse, so I’m not exactly having a great time coping with the lack of physicality,” Cora said, rolling her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So your boyfriend’s name is Jesse,” Derek said, raising his eyebrows at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ass. Shut up,” Cora muttered, turning her head away from him. There was a gentle blush flooding her cheeks, her fingers tapping idly, showing that she was flustered. She fidgeted in her seat, glancing around as if waiting for Erica to bring their food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really like him,” Derek teased, watching her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora turned back to him, glaring. “What if I do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could tell him. About us,” Derek said, shrugging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Cora really liked him, then there was no reason for her to hide anything. That was the death of a relationship for werewolves, waiting too long to tell their partners. It’s easier to tell them early because there are sort of only two options: they accept you, or they don’t. The latter becomes more complicated depending on their options, but there was a level of needing to know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek sort of hoped that Jesse might be more accepting, more willing to accept the news despite the secrets that Cora was keeping. Not that being trans and being a werewolf were the same thing, but maybe he’d understand the need to keep a secret, the need to have to “come out” to your loved ones because you can’t be accepted for who you are. Maybe he’d understand enough to forgive and love Cora anyways. Maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Cora asked skeptically, her eyebrows shooting up her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind. If he’s going to come stay here after Christmas, he might as well find out. But I have to figure out if I like him first,” Derek said, pointing at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erica swept by with their food in that moment, dropping the burger down in front of Cora and the special (a turkey leg with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy) in front of Derek. She dropped a piping hot cup of hot cocoa in front of Derek, patting him on the shoulder as she swept away smoothly, her hips swinging to the Christmas song coming from the jukebox. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not used to people being so accepting  of us. Of Jesse,” Cora blurted, looking like she might have swallowed her water the wrong way. “We normally get people saying something, or asking how sex works like they don’t understand, or asking intimate details about his body, and you’re not doing any of that,” Cora added, her brow furrowing, looking wildly concerned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I’m a bigot?” Derek asked, pulling his head back. He was almost offended at this. “Cora, I’m pretty queer myself, and I’m a big supporter of the LGBT community. Fuck, I’ve even made sure that the other officers are knowledgeable about queer topics,” Derek said, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I’m not saying it right,” Cora said quickly, waving her hands in front of him. “I’m just used to having to defend us to everyone, and I forgot that you’re an actually decent person. It’s hard when I’m around bigots a lot,” Cora said, pressing her lips together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I get it,” Derek said, nodding at her. “Let’s eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed to prompt her to drop the conversation, leave the talk of bigotry for a different day. He couldn’t help but feel bad, not really knowing what she was going through all this time when she was away at school. It was hard for him to really talk to her the way he wanted when she was at school. They tried to talk once a week, but she had her friends, and he had Parrish and his job. They were busy. He wanted to make the effort to talk to her more, see her more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that any good?” Cora asked, gesturing with her free hand to his plate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek looked up at her, the turkey wing in his mouth. He had nearly demolished it already, much hungrier than he thought he was. “I guess, yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, you know,” Cora said, taking a bite of her burger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora waved her hand in the air, as if that was helpful in explaining what she was thinking about. “For Stiles. For coming in right as your life was sort of falling apart. For not being more supportive right after you became Alpha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Derek swallowed thickly, blinking at her words. “It’s okay,” he said, even though he wasn’t. He was not okay in the slightest, but it was okay. It had to be. He had to be. As the Alpha, he had to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s not. I can feel it,” Cora said, thumping her chest over her heart twice. She made a face, as if the whole feelings thing was paining her to say. “Don’t worry, I won’t  mention it again,” Cora said. She dug back into her burger, ensuring that she couldn’t speak another word without being incredibly rude. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek smiled. Sometimes he really loved his sister. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything fine at the station?” Parrish said over the phone, his voice tinny through the speaker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. The only serious call we’ve gotten all day is a woman’s tree falling over, but it was already rotten and gross. We sent over the landscapers to chop it up for her,” Derek said, rapping his knuckles on Parrish’s desk, leaning back in his desk chair. “I’m kind of enjoying the whole desk thing, since we don’t really have them,” Derek added, looking over the desk at the expanse of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to have to get you a desk when I get back, huh,” Parrish said flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Derek said, tilting his head back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know the pack bonds you were telling me about?” Parrish asked, his voice suddenly serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek sat up, taking a deep breath to settle himself. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sucks being apart from you,” Parrish said quietly. “Lyds and I are having a great time with her parents, but we can both feel it. It’s so strange to feel it after so many years of not feeling anything,” Parrish added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Derek said, wincing. It was sort of his fault that they were tied into this family, into his pack. He sometimes wished he could take it back, make things better somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I already thought of you as a brother. This just solidifies it,” Parrish said casually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word bounced around in Derek’s head for a moment. It sounded nice, being brother’s with Parrish. He was 32 years old and he barely even remembered having brothers, having much of a family at all. He had lived as many years without his blood relatives as he had with them, and it was hard to think about the fact that he barely remembered his own family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I gotta go. Talk to you when I get back,” Parrish said quickly, his voice far away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you later,” Derek said, hanging up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked out the window at the dark sky, the sun already gone despite it being barely 5pm. He gathered up  his radio and the rest of his stuff from Parrish’s office, making sure to lock it before he left the station for good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night, Janice,” Derek said as he passed by her on the way out. She would turn off all the computers and get out of the station within a half hour, making sure that it was totally locked up. They all anticipated a quiet Christmas. It was nice to think that maybe Derek could have a quiet 24 hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drove his truck over to the diner, already expecting to meet Cora there for the Christmas Eve party. He even let the radio play on his drive over, some version of  “Baby It’s Cold Outside” playing softly over his speakers. He was trying to be in the Christmas spirit, despite everything. It was hard to find the spirit in the holiday, but at the same time he wasn’t going to shy away from trying to get into the mood. It was hard. Holidays are hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he pulled up to the diner, he was glad to see his sister inside, sipping on some eggnog out of a shiny clear glass, laughing at something that Erica said. Boyd was leaning up against the counter, listening to them but not engaging, his face as serious as always. There were a few other regulars that Derek knew: TJ and his wife Stephanie from the bookstore were sitting at a booth, laughing together; Kim from the grocery store was putting money into the jukebox; Ashlynn, a teacher at the high school, was pouring herself some wine, laughing at something that Erica and Cora said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others in the diner were the other waitresses, Jenny and Lisa, as well as the other two line cooks, Yasmin and Phil. Boyd and Erica’s family were there, his two younger sisters not so young anymore and Erica’s parents decked out in garish Christmas sweaters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Derek said he liked the family atmosphere, this was it. This was what he wanted out of life, out of his own existence as Alpha. He couldn’t imagine moving to a new city to try and do this all over again, not without the people he already knew and loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat in his car for a moment, watching them, trying to get into the mood to talk to them. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and he pulled it out, half expecting Parrish to be sending him something else. Instead it was a single text from Stiles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merry Christmas.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Derek closed his eyes against the sight of the text, trying hard not to think about it too much. Instead of thinking about it at all, he got up and walked inside of the diner, smiling at the others inside. He was going to do his own version of normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Parrish arrived back, it was like a piece of Derek was back in town. He felt much more secure, more grounded, when he had him back. He could feel the pack bond between them more solidly, the space between them not straining at his heart anymore. Not that he particularly wanted to be as pathetically attached to everyone he cared about, but that was sort of what being an Alpha was like. It was being attached to everyone you cared about so that you could protect them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to have you back,” Derek said, hauling Parrish into a hug. He wasn’t much of a hugger usually, so Parrish reluctantly hugged him back, holding tight but also twitching, as if prepared to jump back at any moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re emotional this early in the morning,” Parrish said, clapping Derek’s back. “Haven’t even had my coffee yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek let him go, suddenly aware of how incredibly awkward and weird he was being. “Get your coffee,” Derek said quickly, instead of apologizing or spouting out random things about feeling whole and right again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can take the next few days off, you know. You were just on call for the last few days and I bet you’d want some uninterrupted sleep. Or to properly hang out with Cora,” Parrish said, walking into the break room where the coffee maker was. He stopped at the counter, leaning against it with one hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Derek asked, eyes narrowing at Parrish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as he asked it, the bond between them thrummed with a level of trust that Derek could be confident in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Go home. I’ll call you tomorrow about when you’ll come back. Enjoy,” Parrish said, grabbing a coffee cup out of the cupboard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek shrugged, walking out of the break room and out of the station. He wasn’t necessarily going to ignore Parrish telling him to go home. He did want to sleep without hearing the buzz of the radio or the crackle of midnight calls or when other on duty officers were making 4am calls that they picked up a D&amp;D outside of Rudy’s bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he got home, he was already sort of preparing for his night off. He was thinking about maybe ordering some Chinese food and watching a Bond movie, just because he could. He was still trying to pick himself up off of the ground, figure out what he was supposed to do now that he was separate from Stiles. As if he could live a fulfilling life separate from Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he pulled into the driveway, the first thing he noticed was the light on in the living room. He could see the light through the front window, and Cora never used the living room without Derek there. She always kept to herself when she was alone at the house, and she was not one to suddenly decide that hosting a party was her forte. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek opened the front door cautiously, glancing around and listening hard for people inside the house. He could hear two distinct heartbeats: one was Cora’s and one was— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Derek breathed, his eyes landing on Stiles’ face. He was leaning up against the counter, talking quietly with Cora. When Derek said his name, his eyes snapped to Derek’s, the conversation completely lost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to leave and stay at Parrish’s tonight. See you tomorrow,” Cora said, snatching a bag up. As she walked past Derek, she whispered quickly, “Hear him out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek didn’t want to hear him out. He wanted to throw him out of his house, break his heart just as bad as Derek had his broken. Not that he would ever admit that outloud, considering he barely knew Stiles when he decided to trip headfirst into a relationship with him. If you could even sort of call it that. Only a little more than two weeks together, and Derek was already mentally picking out rings. That was crazy. </span>
</p><p> <span>“You’re here,” Derek said plainly, his arms hanging limply. He hadn’t even had the chance to take off his jacket, hang up his gun. He had half a mind to shoot Stiles, but he never really would. His heart rang almost the opposite, singing at the sight of Stiles in his home again. </span></p><p>
  <span>“I had to come back—” Stiles said, cutting himself off. He furrowed his brow, as if the words he wanted to say were escaping him, living just out of his reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it, you’re a busy FBI agent and I’m just some small town deputy. I get it,” Derek said, stepping forward into the house, keeping his eyes down as he crossed to his coat rack. He tried to keep his footsteps even, trying not to give away his heartache like it was free and meant for Stiles. He kept his back to Stiles, despite all of his instincts not to. He had to try and protect himself from seeing Stiles’ face, seeing how he got to move on and pretend like the last few weeks of their lives weren’t totally and completely life altering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that might be true,” Stiles said, his voice quiet. “But that doesn’t change anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek didn’t say anything. None of his words were giving him comfort or allowing him some sort of solace in their relations with each other. The words were like nails in the coffin that was his hopes and dreams for the two of them. All he really wanted was a quiet moment to himself so that he could try and process the fact that his potential </span>
  <em>
    <span>mate</span>
  </em>
  <span> couldn’t care less about him, but he was back rubbing it in his face. Fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that also doesn’t mean that I’m not insanely attracted to you,” Stiles continued, keeping his voice low and even. His footsteps were soft on the hardwood, his weight balanced carefully to keep him from being too loud. “Or why I couldn’t stop thinking about  you, or how I left things, or how I’m just running away  from commitment like it’s a serial killer chasing me with a knife,” Stiles added, voice starting to get rougher as he spoke, his words getting choked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you saying,” Derek said flatly. He didn’t want to get his hopes up or reveal too much about his own personal thoughts on the matter. He wanted to keep his personal life personal, for once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to be with you,” Stiles said quickly, as if choking out the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek spun to look at him, eyes alight with an undetermined emotion. He couldn’t process how to feel, what to think, any of it. All he heard was that amount of want, the conceding to becoming Derek’s, to a relationship. “What.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I have to spell it out?” Stiles asked, pressing his lips together nervously. “I’m so unbelievably into you, and I don’t want to label anything, but I want us to be together. For real,” Stiles said. His face was open, the picture of serenity and kindness and vulnerability. He had tears brimming at the corners of his eyes, his body starting to curl in on itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Together,” Derek repeated. He stepped towards Stiles carefully, unsure of how to proceed. “You want to be with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ll have me, after it all,” Stiles said, shrugging. “I couldn’t stay away, I had this feeling— this gut feeling— it just keeps pulling me back here,” Stiles added, stepping forward, stepping into Derek’s space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Derek breathed, hands reaching up to grab Stiles’ waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Stiles muttered, leaning in and kissing Derek firmly. He pressed his whole body against him like it was the last chance he was going to get, his lips moving quickly and pressing insistently against Derek’s. He kissed like he was breathing, like he needed Derek. He kissed him like he was planning on staying and carving out a hole in Derek’s life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s hands tightened around Stiles’ waist, his whole body burning at the press of Stiles’ lips against his own. He was tugging at Stiles’ shirt, tugging at his pants, wanting something to budge. He wanted access to more skin, to feel Stiles’ breaths and his heartbeat underneath his palms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, breaking away. Instead of backing up for a breather, Derek dipped and and started to kiss along Stiles’ neck, biting at his collarbones and tugging at his shirt insistently, trying to get more access. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the idea,” Derek murmured against Stiles’ skin. In one movement he grabbed under Stiles’ hips, pulling him up into his arms. He felt Stiles’ legs wrap around his torso, clinging to him as he lifted him into the air. Without moving his mouth he carried them upstairs, feet sure on the stairs, going purely off of memory. It wasn’t until he was in his own bedroom that he let Stiles go, dropping him onto the mattress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have so much more talking to do,” Stiles said, hands immediately scrambling to pull his shirt over his head, shedding it quickly. “We have to talk about what it means to be together—” he was cut off with a kiss, Derek crowding into his space and pushing him back onto the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No talking,” Derek muttered, pulling back only to shed himself of his uniform. He was trying to get the buttons to cooperate under his fingers, but he was too clumsy, too distracted by Stiles’ bare torso and the way his moles looked extra prominent in low lighting. Derek was going to map those moles with his tongue, make Stiles writhe underneath him until he was screaming his name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it,” Stiles said, pushing Derek’s hands away so that he could deftly shed him of his shirt. When he was done with the buttons, he was pushing the shirt off roughly, making an annoyed huff when he saw that Derek was wearing a tank top underneath. “While I love the tank top, I’d really like it to not exist,” Stiles said, tugging at the hem of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek swooped in to kiss him, hands reaching down towards his own buckle. He tugged at the leather, the buckle coming loose much more easily than the buttons on his shirt. He unbuttoned his pants, shoving them down without breaking his kiss with Stiles. He kicked the pants off of his legs, shedding his shoes at the same time. He pressed Stiles back into the mattress, his hands cupping Stiles’ ribs, feeling the hummingbird thrum of his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I get naked?” Stiles asked, pushing at Derek’s shoulders. “While I’d love to come in my pants like a teenager, I’d also like you to be inside me already,” Stiles added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cocky confidence had Derek’s eyes flashing red, so turned on by the idea of Stiles waiting for him and wanting him and so desperate for him— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Derek said, reluctantly pulling himself off of Stiles. He took the opportunity to get fully naked, watching with hungry eyes as Stiles shucked his clothes as quickly and efficiently as possible. He wanted to grab Stiles, throw him onto the bed, tear his clothes off with his teeth, but he knew that wouldn’t be a favored way of getting naked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I missed you,” Stiles said, openly staring at Derek’s cock. He grabbed at Derek, pulling him on top of him on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Derek,” Derek muttered, pressing his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck, breathing in his scent and feeling him harden against his hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you just make a joke while heavy breathing on me?” Stiles asked, huffing. He arched into Derek, searching for friction he wasn’t getting. “Did you forget about the whole ‘inside me’ thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek growled, biting gently into Stiles’ neck. He knew he was going to leave a mark, licking over the skin gently, happy with his decision to mark Stiles up. He wanted to leave his impression all over him, to grab at his hips and leave the scent of him. He was so desperately in love with Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So impatient,” Derek muttered, blindly reaching up towards his bedside table. He wrenched it open, grabbing out the lube, tossing it on the bed next to Stiles’ head. “Can you be patient enough for me to open you up? Or are you gonna come on my fingers?” Derek asked huskily, dipping in to kiss Stiles thoroughly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he only got a moan in response, Derek grinned, the zing of satisfaction moving through him. He quickly slicked up his fingers, teasing with one at his entrance before sliding it in, catching Stiles’ gasp in his mouth. He leaned hard into Stiles’ body, feeling their cocks slide together where they were trapped between them. He wanted to give into his instincts, to rub off on Stiles and come on his belly. Instead he kissed Stiles thoroughly, working his fingers in Stiles and twisting to press against his spot, enjoying the way that Stiles tried to arch against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I’m seriously going to come if you don’t stop that,” Stiles moaned, writhing as Derek hit his spot over and over with his fingers, pressing him to the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Derek muttered, shifting so that he was pulling away from Stiles, leaving him on the bed gasping from the lack of contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick,” Stiles muttered, propping himself up on his elbows, breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for knowing my anatomy,” Derek muttered, tugging at Stiles’ legs, pulling hard enough he collapsed back into the bed. He positioned himself at Stiles’ hole, pressing in slowly, filling him up. He could feel Stiles act so responsively to him, letting him inside and moaning as he stretched him open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed this,” Stiles moaned, hands fisting the sheets. He closed his eyes and tossed his head back. Derek took the opportunity to nip at his neck, shallowly thrusting into him, setting a brutally slow pace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Derek growled into his neck. He blindly grabbed at one of Stiles’ hands, sliding their fingers together slowly, pinning his arm to the bed. This was more than their usual frenzied tossing of clothes and getting off as quickly as possible; this was lovemaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harder, babe,” Stiles murmured encouragingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Listening to him, Derek started to pick up the pace, adjusting his angle until Stiles was moaning with every thrust, gasping into his mouth, arching his whole body into him. Stiles came quickly after that, only needing a few strokes before he was coming between them, clutching onto Derek with his one free arm. It only took a few more thrusts before Derek was coming, slumping onto Stiles, pressing himself into Stiles’ body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you so much,” Stiles murmured, accepting all of his weight on top of him. “Even this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek woke up to the sun coming through his windows and a body draped over his front, snoring lightly. He instinctually gripped Stiles tighter, smiling as he pressed a kiss into his hair. So the sex last night was totally real. The whole thing was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let himself lay there and enjoyed the company of Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep in his heart he knew that whatever happened, they would work out. There were things they needed to talk about, from their first meeting right up to why Stiles felt a need to disappear without a word. They were so fresh with each other, so new to their relationship together, that there was communication that needed to happen. They were still learning about each other, figuring out who they were as individuals and together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to cloud their relationship, but Derek also felt a tugging in his gut that meant that Stiles was the one. As in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> for him. His mate. But that held a whole different set of pressures, of intentions. He didn’t want to add that to the mix, not when they were trying to figure out what it meant to be together in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles stirred on his chest, blinking awake. “Derek?” Stiles asked sleepily, lifting his head to glance at Derek’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Derek murmured, running his hands down Stiles’ bare back, his fingers tracing shapes delicately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek relished in the thought that this would be a regular occurrence. They would wake up together morning after morning, wrapped in each other because they were in love. Not that he wanted to say that out loud, but he felt it in his chest. His wolf felt it in his bones. He knew that they would thrive together. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning: This story will get gritty. It will have vaguely graphic descriptions of violence towards a teenage girl, including sexual assault and strangulation. </p><p>It will follow language present in standard crime scene shows (think Criminal Minds or CSI). If this is a trigger, please take care of yourselves. I want to make sure that you're protected. </p><p>Thanks.</p><p>EDIT: I'm graduating from school this week so an update probably won't be posted for another week plus. Sorry for the delay, I am working on it, but I am also attempting to graduate college and apply for grad schools. I would love some well wishes though. Hit me up on tumblr (@rain-or-clouds)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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